Girl No More
by bpfatcat
Summary: "Be happy, Hermione. Things will work out in the end. I imagine I'll see you on Sunday. Just... Stay strong, no matter what. Things will end badly if you don't." Hermione's world is crumbling around her, and not even Bill can help. Will she ever get her happily ever after? Sequel to Watching His Girl Grow, last in the My Little Girl series.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** Muggles, Squibs, Wizards and Witches alike, I do apologise. I promised a quick posting for the finale of the My Little Girl series and failed. Miserably. I blame that irritating bugger Real Life, and one of my dear cats jumping on my laptop and breaking it. Make sure you back up your documents!

 **READ ME :** Okay, so this story is rated a serious M. As well as my usual obscene language and sexual encounters, there are scenes of violence, abuse- physical and sexual- and major character death. The more serious scenes of abuse I will be putting warnings up for, but don't go into this expecting no violence or unnerving scenes. If you have an aversion to such scenes; when I post the warnings please, feel free to message me, and I'll give you a quick summary :)

 **A/N2** First time I've done this, but it's actually really important to me. I've never dedicated a FanFic to anyone, but now I must, to one person and one brilliant character. Firstly; it is no coincidence that this is being posted on Mother's Day. I know everyone seems to say it but... Well, my mum is the best. She's supported my reading and writing since I was five, has read all of my original work and FanFics, and given praise and/or constructive criticism throughout. Not only that, but she's stuck with me through some very tough times (that bastard Real Life again!) and is the strongest person I know, not only in herself, but in the strength she holds for other people. I love my mum more than I can ever say, and more than she will ever know. Until she reads this. And I become embarrassed. Ugh.

The second dedication is to one of the loveliest, moodiest characters ever. Sadly, one of our cats passed away earlier this week (on the 29th Feb, he had to be bloody unique) and we'll always miss him. He was... Well, if you have a pet you love, you know. So, this is for the best mum in the world, and for my dear GOM (Grumpy Old Man = Best Nickname Ever)

I've ranted, but now (finally), and in my mum and cat's name, I present **Girl No More.**

 **Chapter 1**

 _1:23pm_

'It's ridiculous,' Hermione thought sullenly, 'after all we've been through, for him to go this way.' She was sat at yet another funeral; twenty years after the Final Battle, when she'd dared to believe that they could live in peace, not have to bury another friend. What a way to go, as well; the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, killed by Muggle stupidity. It was her fault, she thought with devastating guilt. She was the one who had told him and his wife to take a night off, told them she would look after their children so that they could celebrate their anniversary together. If only she had known... If she had known that Harry's grateful face in his navy dress robes, and Ginny's excited look in her beautiful turquoise gown would be the last time she saw them... Oh, what she would have done, if only she'd _known_.

Crookshanks and Tyg, Rose's kneazle gifted to her by her father, had known somehow. They had tried their best to stop the Potter parents from leaving the house, going so far as to sit on their feet resolutely. But Hermione had ignored them, had exclaimed that they were acting strangely but done _nothing_ , hadn't even _considered_ that in their own magical way, they knew the pair would not return to the house. She hadn't heeded their unspoken warning.

Thousands had turned up to the funeral, as was only right, but at the same time she had to wonder how many people knew them as Harry and Ginny, rather than the Chosen One and his wife. She wrapped her arms tighter around her god-daughter and her daughter, pulling Lily Potter and Rose closer to her, letting their tears soak into her black dress. She blinked back the own moisture in her eyes, telling herself to be strong, but it was so hard, _so hard_. As the stranger from the Ministry droned on and on about their achievements, she thought about the fierce look in Ginny's eyes as she kissed Harry for the first time, the way he had lost himself looking at the Marauders Map for her when they were on the run, the look of absolute relief when they came out of the battle harmed, but alive. Then more memories; their wedding day, the birth of their babies, the proud tears glistening in their eyes when each of their children left for Hogwarts for the first time.

She wanted the man to shut up, to stop talking about the downfall of Voldemort and the battles. She wanted him to talk about the look of nervous joy Harry had when he first rode a broomstick, the bat-bogey hexes Ginny was so famous for, the years of happiness that they shared together. That was what they fought for, after all, that's what so many people _died_ for. She inwardly sighed; Harry Potter would never just be Harry Potter, he never had been and never would be. He would always be the man who beat Voldemort. And Ginny would only ever be remembered as his wife. She hated it; she hated the fact that these people sat here and pretended to know them both, hated the fact that it was some stranger that was giving them their epitaph, hated the fact that she wasn't able to save them. A single tear streaked down her cheek and she let it fall carelessly, before strengthening her resolve and reminding herself that Lily and Rose needed her. _I have to be strong_.

Her eyes darted over to the family that was hers, sat a few seats away. Ron, her husband, with one arm around his god-son James and the other around their son Hugo. George clinging desperately to Angelina, Mrs Weasley clutching to Mr Weasley and Percy miserably, Fleur grasping Bill's arm whilst his other was wrapped around his son Louis, who in turn was clutching his elder sister Dominique. Her own parents weeping but sending concerned looks in her direction. She turned to her friends, the only other people that really knew the Potters. Neville, holding wife Hannah and god-son Albus tightly, his face scrunched up to prevent tears. Luna, for once without any odd accessories, crying silently on the arm of her husband. Then there was Dean and Seamus, Lavender and Parvati, and quite a few Gryffindor's she recognised from Ginny's year, and from the Quidditch teams over the years. Her throat closed over as she saw Dennis Creevey with his parents, watching his brother's idol being buried close to him.

It had been at Hermione and Ron's demand that the pair be buried in the same cemetery as the other casualties from the war; originally people had wanted a grand monument to be created in the centre of London, with their bones beneath it, but their two best friends had refused, accompanied by quick and fierce approval from the Weasleys. In the end, it had come down to James, Albus and Lily, but as their parents' had always been modest about their achievements, and spoke with great respect, even reverence, about those who had lost their lives, they agreed that there was no place more suitable for them to be than among their comrades. Her eyes drifted to the grave that Harry had insisted be made, for none other than the potions master that had given him grief for most of his life. After some convincing, he had revealed Snape's past to her, even showing her the memory, and holding her as she cried afterwards. She wondered now, if there was a Heaven and Hell, where Severus would be? She hoped he would be in the former. Although there was no doubt he'd done awful things before his reformation, and many more awful things after, she genuinely believed he wasn't an awful person.

She forced her unwilling mind to return to the man's speech. "-such heroes, and will never be forgotten, for they-" She let herself drift again, unable to meet anyone's eyes and instead letting her gaze fall on the seemingly endless sea of graves that surrounded them, absently stroking the children's hair. So many people... _So many_. They were being buried between Fred and Remus, two heroes that people would never know again. She shook her head slowly; too young, they were all too young. Her eyes met Teddy Lupin's and she saw the deadened look in his dry eyes, even as he rubbed Victoire's back comfortingly – another orphan, another man with no family, another one who had lost not only his father, but the closest thing to as well. Teddy loved Harry, and vice versa, and she knew from the latter's life that he would never truly recover from the loss of his godfather.

"-acts of bravery and strength-" Merlin, wouldn't that man shut up? It was like Dumbledore's funeral all over again, when they hadn't mentioned his bordering-on-unhealthy obsession with sweets, or the mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, or his complete adoration for Christmas hats. Why was it that they constantly missed out the important things at funerals? It was always the same thing; at Fred's they hadn't even mentioned his love of explosives, at Tonks' they hadn't spoken about the way she would change her nose to amuse people, at Remus's they didn't even acknowledge the fact that he always tried to hold himself up though he was hurting after the full moon. They hadn't even mentioned Colin Creevey's camera. That was the Ministry officials though, only interested in dull, meaningless commendations. Of course, it was all true; they were all heroes, brave and brilliant and so, so loved, but they were more than that too. They had had normal lives, with teenage drama and work problems and stresses about pointless things. "-forever embodied in the legacy they left behind-"

Even as she rolled her eyes and sighed, Lily suddenly darted out from under her arm, and she cried out after her. But the young girl purposefully strode to the podium and gave the speaker a glare that was worthy of her mother until he moved, and she stood facing the crowd, red hair shining brightly in the sunlight. Her brothers jumped up to join her, James murmuring lowly in her ear and receiving only a shake of her head in reply, and Albus nervously looking at the mass of people staring at them. "You're all talking about my mum and dad as if they were just the 'Golden Couple'," Lily began, voice shaking, "but they weren't. They were our _mum and dad_. And I know that most of you are here because they were famous, but do you know what made them heroes to me? What I'll remember them for? The fact the every Sunday morning, they would make breakfast together, and dad would always try to teach mum how to use Muggle stoves. She managed to set the whole kitchen on fire once; they kept a small part of the scorch mark on the ceiling in memory." The three Potter children chuckled lightly.

"I'll always remember the way mum used to yell at dad when he came home from work with a broken bone or a new injury. He used to joke that he'd rather take on a dozen criminals than face her when she was angry. But then they'd always end up curled on the sofa together, and everything would be okay." James added.

Albus's voice suddenly piped up, his eyes so like Harry's that tears formed in Hermione's anew. "The main memory I'll have of mum and dad is the stories they told us as children, about a stag, doe, dog and wolf. They were so exciting, and then later on we found out that they were true as well." He smiled wistfully, even as he cried. "Dad always said that he felt he'd done his parents, Sirius and Remus proud by having his three children."

Lily stood between her brothers, holding their hands and looking devastated, but stubborn. "That was our mum and dad. Not some random people that won a war, not a couple of famous people, not the 'Golden Couple'. Our _parents_. And that's what made them heroes to us."

They stepped down and Lily guided them back to where Hermione and Rose sat, and she magically extended the seats to accommodate them all. Rose wandered over to join best friend Albus and they all became a tangle of limbs as they hugged, Hugo quickly joining the group. The Ministry man continued droning on, but it seemed that no-one that mattered was listening, and after a moment Neville stood up on shaky legs and stumbled to the podium. The official gave a small sigh and stepped aside, and Neville visibly paled as he was met with the thousands of faces staring at him. Steeling his nerves, the embodiment of Gryffindor courage, he gave a wry smile. "You know, in our first year Harry got me in so much trouble, I never imagined that... I just wanted to say that Harry was one of my best friends, one of the first people that actually believed in me. And Ginny wasn't afraid to yell at me when I was being too hard on myself. I loved them both, and I'll miss them more than I can ever say." He stepped down, shoulders shaking with repressed tears and joined the group around Hermione, clutching Albus tightly to him and weeping onto Hannah's shoulder when she came over.

Luna now wandered up to the stage, her usually dreamy nature replaced by a grim slouch. "Ginny was always so nice to me, even though people made fun of me. She told them off when they called me Loony. Then Harry started the DA and for the first time, it was like I really had friends. I've lost two best friends now, and I'll never forget them. Not even if the wrackspurts get me." She gave a defiant nod and moved to hug Lily, who was chuckling weakly.

The next person to move forward made the entire company gasp in shock. "We hated each other for seven years, rivals from the moment we first met at Diagon Alley. Hell, I got turned into a ferret because of him." Draco Malfoy scowled slightly, before exhaustion and unexpected grief washed his features clean. "But he and his friends saved my life, twice, and even spoke up for me so I wouldn't be sent to Azkaban after the war ended. He was," He seemed to choke on the words, "a good man. A really good man. And if I can ever be half the man he was, I'll be happy. As for the Weasel gi-" He caught himself and frowned, " _Ginny_ , I didn't really know her, unless you count the many hexes we threw at each other, but she must have been pretty special to have a guy like Harry love her." He didn't walk to their quickly growing group, but strode quickly back to his seat. His eyes were mostly cast down, except for a moment when he met her own, and she nodded slightly. Now was not the time for old grudges, and she appreciated how difficult it must have been for him to stand up and commemorate his old enemy.

He was followed by various classmates and ex-teachers, including a highly tearful McGonagall and a stricken-faced Oliver Wood, before Hagrid stomped up and gave a blubbery mess of a speech that no-one could understand, then returned to Grawp. Mrs Figg came next, moaning that she'd always been horrible to Harry, afterwards the entire Holyhead Harpies team crying bitterly over the loss of Ginny, and then Dean and Seamus, visibly shaking. To everyone's surprise, Petunia Dursley stood up, murmuring that she'd let her sister down before breaking into sudden tears and being helped down by a puce-coloured Vernon. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, spoke in his deep, soothing voice, Mundungus Fletcher shifted awkwardly and muttered about them both, and even Firenze the centaur spoke a few words. But still, none of the Weasleys had taken to the stage, and were instead all huddled around Hermione's mute form.

In a sudden flurry of movement, their group parted to let a red-head through. He stood between the two mounds of earth waiting to be filled, tears pooling in his eyes as he turned to face the crowd. "I'm a coward. I abandoned everyone I loved in a way that Harry never did. I abandoned my own family, I couldn't save my own brother, and now I wasn't able to save my sister." Percy didn't attempt to stop the water pooling down his cheeks. "I didn't deserve to be in Gryffindor, but if there was any two people that did, it was Harry and Ginny. I never told Ginny enough how much I loved her, and how sorry I was, I _am_ , for all my mistakes. Just like I didn't tell Fred enough. I let my family down, and that means Harry too. I didn't believe him, and I turned away from everyone because of it. I should have told him, I should have said how sorry I was, I can't believe I never said..." He bowed his head, overcome with his sobs, and only his wife's reassuring hand on his shoulder gave him the strength to look up again. "I loved them. I loved them both. I'll never stop loving them."

He was followed by a stream of Weasleys, then Teddy, until finally it was only Ron and Hermione that hadn't spoken. Ron raised his head as George stepped down and clapped his shoulder in an overly masculine way, eyes somehow dry. "He was my best friend from the first day we met. She was my little sister." He froze, and suddenly his eyes met the crowd, and she was alarmed to see that they were filled with anger. No, not anger, _fury_. "This isn't fair!" He yelled. "None of this is fucking fair! After every-fucking-thing, they're killed by a bloody Muggle drunk driver?! He _lived_! He lived through every fucking curse thrown at him, lived through the bloody Avada Kedavra _twice_ , lived even when he was willing to die! And she always survived, she was my little fucking sister! She faced Voldemort when she was bloody eleven and won! She was so strong, so powerful, so bloody _brilliant_. _And they were fucking killed by a fucking drunk Muggle_!" He breathed heavily, before screaming, " _SHIT!_ " The mass of people recoiled in shock, but Hermione rushed forward to fold her husband into a tight embrace. He brushed off her affections though and, staring darkly at the earth behind him, turned on the spot and disapparated.

Hermione froze as people started to whisper in appalled tones, and she was disgusted to see Rita Skeeter's smirk as her quill danced across the parchment in her hands. "Stop it." She said quietly, before suddenly yelling. "Stop it!" As each eye snapped to her she quietened and her breath heaved with emotion. "This is the last thing Harry and Ginny would've wanted, people gossiping! We all have our own memories of them both, and that's what we need to hold on to. Ron was right, this isn't fair, but more than anyone else, they understood that people can live forever in our minds, in our hearts, and in our love." She cringed at the cheesiness of her words, but at Bill and Mrs Weasley's reassuring nods, continued. "They both lived and loved fiercely, facing life head on and never hesitating to abandon everything for their friends, their family, for what was inherently good. Their lives weren't easy for a long time, but the years they spent with their children and the people who loved them, the years of peace, meant everything to them. The best thing we can do to honour them is to enjoy every moment we have with our loved ones, just like they did." She turned to the two intimidating coffins behind her, tears falling freely down her face. "I'm so sorry it had to end this way." She whispered. "I love you both, so much. And thank you, thank you for everything."

Ignoring the Ministry official's scowls, she raised her wand and began to levitate the boxes that would forever hold the bodies of two of her best friends, crying silently. Before she knew it, Lily had grasped her hand and, raising the wand she had purchased only half a year ago, muttered, "Wingardium LeviOsa". The rest of the children joined them, all saying the spell, and then all the adults that loved Harry and Ginny. The coffins seemed to glow under the force of the magic, raising high together before falling slowly into the ground. Everyone was weeping openly, but the scene was as quiet as death, the first sound heard in minutes being the slapping of earth as the graves were covered. She sent them a silent goodbye, before turning to face the other thousands that had attended simply to see the Boy-Who-Lived finally laid to rest, grateful to find that they had remained behind out of respect. The seventy-odd people who had crowded around the mounds of earth that now hid the bodies, the fallen couple's nearest and dearest, began to drift slowly away, heads staring at the ground as if wishing it would swallow them up too. All around she could see people muttering soft words of futile comfort, or hugging their friends and families in attempts of reassurance. She nodded to and embraced various people as she passed, before being engulfed in a red-headed Weasley family hug, Mrs Weasley clutching at her as she sank to her knees and pulling her down too. The elder woman's mouth was open in a silent scream of anguish, though it seemed she had cried herself dry, and for a while they simply held one another, only separating when Rose and Hugo appeared by her side. She leant back and let her children collapse onto her, stroking their hair soothingly and telling herself over and over that she had to be strong. She had to be _strong_. The Potter children joined in the mass of red bushy hair and as she gazed at their tear-stained faces, she had to screw up her eyes and chant to herself, _have to be strong have to be strong have to be strong strong strong_.

It felt like she had aged a lifetime before they finally broke apart and, each adult holding a child, began apparating away. "Hermione, dear, we're all going back to the Burrow. It's best for us to be together right now. Are you coming?"

She opened her mouth to accept Mrs Weasley's offer, gazing at Lily's still-broken expression and knowing that she would be needed, but she swallowed her words. "I should really go find Ron." She croaked, her voice hoarse. "Would you mind watching Rose and Hugo for a few minutes while I look?"

Molly gave her a small, sad attempt at a smile. "Of course not, but stop by later. None of us should be alone."

"Be careful 'Mione." Bill spoke softly as he held Rose's hand tightly and stroked her hair.

"Thank you, I will be. I shouldn't be too long." Not trusting herself to hold together if she endured another hug, she lightly kissed her children's foreheads and promised she'd see them soon, before turning on the spot and disappearing.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Much love to everyone who's taken time with this, it makes my day when I wake up to see emails saying people enjoy my writing!

Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and if you have a spare moment, let me know what you think! (I might even throw in a slap for you, I've done it before ;) )

Disclaimer; Nothing redognisable in this or any of the following chapters belongs to me. S'all JKs.

 **Chapter 2**

2.25pm

She arrived outside their modest home, and let herself in, calling out for her husband as she did. "Ron? Are you here? _Ron?_ " No reply came and she felt herself sag. She didn't particularly want to spend her afternoon looking for him, quite the opposite in fact; all she wanted was to crawl up in her bed and fall asleep, forget that this day had ever happened. Wake up and find that the world made sense again. That Harry and Ginny were still alive. And with the thought of their names, she snapped. Falling to her knees in the middle of her living room, an ear-splitting, wordless scream left her lips. She was crying out in desperate anguish, letting any illusion of strength fade away as she banged her fists furiously on the floor and grit her teeth against the pain that was building within her. The hole inside her that she had carefully covered with ice, that she had refused to acknowledge so she could be damn _strong_ , was burning with white hot intensity, a blinding darkness swallowing her whole. Her magic built around her, swirling like an insane tornado through the room, smashing china and tearing fabric, and it was only getting stronger because it _hurt hurt hurt_!

The walls began to shake and the ceiling cracked ominously, but she didn't notice because all she could see was their smiling faces, all she could hear was her own disbelieving torment, all she could feel was the icy burn that left _nothing left_. Her hands found her wildly flying hair, clutching at her scalp and tearing, determined to reach through to her brain and pull it out, relishing the pain she felt as she tore through the skin. Her fingers, now bloodied and covered with strands of curly brown, reached her face to claw at her eyes, and still she screamed and screamed and _screamed._ Her magic finally smashed through the walls, and her sofa and dining room table started circling through the air, as a flurry of cutlery whizzed past her face, her kitchen knives slashing dangerously close to her throat and wrists. But still she screamed because they were gone and they were _Never. Coming. Back._ And it hurt so so _so fucking much!_

It could have been a lifetime or half an hour before she finally stopped, lying in a broken, crumpled heap on the floor, gasping desperately and feeling more drained than she ever had before. All the years of study, the hours of work, the many battles she'd been through; none of them had left her as despairingly empty as this did. She raised her swollen, bleary eyes, and looked at the damage she had inadvertently caused, marvelling slightly that the whole house hadn't collapsed on top of her. She supposed that though her magic had been fuelled by her torturous despair, it had also somehow saved her. She dragged herself up, cutting herself as she did on a nearby knife, and sat back heavily on her feet. She watched as a bead of blood from the small wound trickled down the back of her hand and onto the floor, frowning at the stain it began to form. She looked around at the devastation that surrounded her, comparing it to the small red dot on the floor and felt a hysterical bubble of laughter crawl it's way up her throat, though it erupted as a raspy, exhausted sob.

She grabbed her wand from where it had fallen to the floor during her rampage, and wearily repaired the skin on her hand. Forcing herself to stand up, ignoring her shaking legs and trembling hand as she pointed towards the biggest hole in the wall. Feeling the remnants of her magic pulsing around her, she waved in a wide arc and watched as everything repaired itself and returned to it's normal place, before stumbling over to the mirror and staring at the face she barely recognised as her own. She was pale, looked strained, with eyes so bloodshot she could barely see the deep brown in them, lips cracked and bleeding and hair a wild mess, even by her standards. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and waved her wand over her face, gulping in lungs of air and repeating her mantra once more. _I have to be strong._

When she left ten minutes later, it was impossible to tell that she had done anything other than ducked in, called for Ron and then left. Her back was straight once more and, though her eyes looked perhaps deader, the steel that usually lived there had returned. She apparated to the Ministry first, asking the man at the check in desk if he'd seen Ron, then flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and asked the ever-present Tom the same. Receiving another negative reply, she began to stop in on her husband's usual haunts, finally, and with some desperation, arriving in Hogsmeade. She closed her eyes to block out the memories of past, happier times there, _strong strong strong,_ and stopped first by the Hogs Head, which was closed. 'Of course,' she thought, 'Aberforth was at the funeral'. She meandered lazily down the street, gazing morosely at the rows of closed shops. It seemed that everyone had shut up for Harry and Ginny, and the deadened atmosphere made her fly twenty years earlier to when Voldemort was in power. It was only right, though, she mused. It felt as if the whole world was grieving their loss.

The Three Broomsticks was open and packed with ebony clad patrons, but it was almost completely silent. There seemed to be a collective intake of breath when she walked in, but she averted everyone's eyes, heading straight for the bar. "Hi, Rosmerta." She mumbled to the attractive bartender.

"Hermione," the older woman said softly, her eyes crinkled with sympathy, "how are you holding up?"

She shrugged half-heartedly in reply, before asking; "Have you seen Ron?"

Rosmerta frowned. "No, love, sorry. I haven't seen him since this morning, I thought he'd be with you and the kids."

Sighing heavily, she thanked her and began to leave, but not before a flash of acid green caught her eye. Spinning suddenly and whipping her wand out, she grabbed the blonde curls and pushed their owner into a dark corner, where they couldn't be seen by the others. "Looking for another story are we?" She hissed menacingly.

Rita Skeeter looked highly indignant as she batted Hermione's hand away. "Get your claws off me, you bitch!" She cried out, and was surprised to find that the bushy haired know-it-all did as she said. But moments later she paled and stilled, as she felt the small stick of wood pressing roughly into her neck. "Get away from me, or I'll scream."

She chuckled maniacally. "And who do you think would come to help a pathetic little _insect_ like you? You're _worthless_ Skeeter, and everyone fucking knows it. I saw you at the funeral earlier today and I swear to Merlin, if you dare to write a single word about it, I will make you regret the day you were even born."

Her eyes darted around frantically but she sneered, her voice mocking. "It's my job to write, you stupid little girl." Her expression became sadistically appraising. "Actually, speaking of, how does it feel to have your husband abandon you the same day you buried your friends?"

She yelped in alarm as the quill and notepad in her hand suddenly burst into flames, the angry blue jumping up high enough to scorch the ceiling. "You will _never_ write about anything from today, or I will make you pay." Rosmerta came round the corner to see what the commotion was, and her mouth popped open as her eyes flicked from the burnt wood to the wand Hermione still had pressed against Rita's neck. "Sorry about the mess, Ros." She called as she stalked out of the pub, ignoring the inquisitive looks being thrown her way.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** Hello, lovely people! Sorry I seemed to make a few of you cry :(

Big love to all of you, especially all of my lovely reviewers, and extra major huge love to Crossy and bookworm; I love you guys :)

Please continue to fave, follow, review and enjoy.

 **Chapter 3**

 _3:13pm_

Too tired to even consider continuing to look for Ron, she went instead to the Burrow, and observed the dilapidated house as it shone in the afternoon sun. It should be raining, she thought idly, before her attention was pulled towards two figures sprawled on the grass by the orchard. From the back, with his unruly black hair and her long red locks, they could almost be their parents from over twenty years ago, lazing by Hogwarts lake. "Hiya you two." She called as she sat next to them.

"Hi Aunt 'Mione." Albus said, his green eyes meeting hers sadly whilst Lily merely rested her head on her godmother's shoulder.

She stroked the girls hair and tried not to think about how the shade of deep red was exactly the same as Ginny's, whilst she rubbed her brother's shoulder comfortingly. "Mum!" Called a voice from behind them, and she turned where she sat to see her own two children jogging towards them. "Did you find Dad?" Hugo asked, as Rose sat down next to Albus and regarded him with a concerned look that matched her mother's right down to the slight pinch of the mouth.

"I'm afraid not, darling, but I'm sure he'll be back soon." Her son nodded and sat opposite Lily, beginning to engage her in a distracting conversation. She marvelled at the strength of her two young ones; the gentle way they supported yet diverted their cousin's attentions, doing everything they could think of to help the Potters, even as they too were grieving. But speaking of... "Lily, where's James?" She asked gently. The girl gave a half-hearted shrug and said he'd gone towards the back of the garden without a word to them.

She pushed herself up to go in search of him, and found him within minutes, sat with his back against the old broom-shed, head flopped onto his chest. She slid down the wooden door to join him but he didn't look up or acknowledge her presence for several long moments. "I know I should be with Lils and Al," he said suddenly in a low, sullen voice, "but I just..." He breathed in deeply and raised his face to meet her eyes, his own filled with tears. "I just can't." The tears began to fall in earnest. "I know that I'm supposed to look after them now, that we're supposed to stick together, but I just..." He trailed off and hung his head again in shame. "I'm sorry."

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, sympathy flowing through her for the teen who felt so much responsibility on his shoulders; she thought he'd never reminded her more of his father. "James, it's not your job to look after the others, that's what the rest of us are here for. You've nothing to be sorry for or ashamed about, your mum and dad would be so proud of you right now." He buried his head in her shoulder and she held him tightly, remembering the nights when she would sit like this with Harry in the tent, silently comforting one another, no words needed.

When he was all cried out he pulled back and got a look that she remembered all too well from her late friend. "Don't you dare apologise." She warned, and he blushed pink and gave a small half-smile as his brown eyes warmed in gratitude.

He indicated the broom that she hadn't noticed lying at his feet. "This was dad's." He said quietly. "I guess it's mine now. I offered it to the others but they said that he'd want me to have it." Hermione glanced down and her face sprang into shock when she noticed the twenty-five year old Firebolt there. "He said his godfather Sirius gave it to him, he was always telling us stories about him..." He sniffed slightly and fell silent once more whilst she felt another new wave of grief at seeing the old broomstick. "Will it ever stop hurting?" James whispered and she held him tighter but didn't answer.

"Did your dad ever tell you that he beat a dragon on that broom?" She said after a while, and the young man's face lit up in surprise and tentative excitement. She smiled gently at him. "How about we find the others and I'll tell you all about it?" He nodded and they meandered back around the house to find his siblings and her children sat in the same spot, huddled in a small group and talking quietly. James immediately hugged his brother and sister tightly to him, and they stayed there for a few minutes whilst Hermione affectionately embraced Hugo and Rose. More tears were falling after a few minutes, but James, looking much calmer than before, eagerly told them that Aunt Hermione had promised a story about dragons. They sat in a small circle; Lily in her lap, Hugo leaning against her shoulder, Rose and Albus holding one another's hands in mutual support, and James lovingly stroking the broom he hadn't let go of. She began the long tale of the Triwizard tournament, though she made it somewhat lighter than it had been in reality. As she spoke, Teddy, black haired today, and the beautiful Victoire joined their little group, her rubbing his back lovingly. The rest of the children followed in a slow stream, sitting close to one another to seek mutual comfort, and soon after they were joined by the rest of the Weasleys.

Charlie protested loudly when she spoke of how terrifying the dragons had been, insisting that they were misunderstood, making them all chuckle. It felt odd, to laugh, as if it was something that had to be re-learnt, but when she detailed Harry and Ron's attempts to dance, it happened once more. "Neville was very good though, he and your mum were one of the last ones to get in that night."

The Potters blinked in surprise, and Albus blurted, "Mum and Neville? My _godfather_ Neville went to a ball together? Danced together?"

She nodded at their surprise. "That's right. Your dad went with Parvati, a girl from our year, and Ron went with her twin sister, Padma. Your Aunt Fleur went with a man called Roger, although this was before she met Bill." The part-veela gazed sweetly at her husband, but his eyes were glued to the ground.

"Who did you go with, mum?" Rose asked curiously.

"Oh, ah-" She muttered awkwardly, "I went with Viktor."

"Viktor Krum?!" James exclaimed. "The other champion? The Quidditch player? The _celebrity_?"

Hermione blushed and nodded. "Yes, though I'd rather hoped Ron would ask me, just like your mum hoped that your dad would ask her."

Teddy smiled slightly. "It was two years later that Harry and Gin got together though, wasn't it?"

"That's right." She confirmed, before adding in a voice that she couldn't keep all of the pain from, "And it was that year that your Uncle Bill met Fleur for the first time." She went on to describe the second and third tasks, but the sun was setting as she neared the end of her tale, and she was grateful when Mrs Weasley suggested they go inside, sparing her the task of telling the young children about the graveyard and Voldemort's return.

The relaxed atmosphere they had somehow managed to generate during the story-telling was immediately extinguished when they entered the dark home. They split off into groups but the Potters quickly excused themselves and went to bed. They were staying at the Burrow now, though they had inherited everything, including their own house, as it had been agreed that they needed family around them, and they would be returning to Hogwarts soon anyway. Hermione walked upstairs with the three children, kissing their foreheads as they settled into the beds in their shared room, but excused herself when James opened his arms and his two younger siblings crawled into bed with him and began crying once more, holding each other tightly. She slowly descended the stairs, where she saw that Hugo and Rose had fallen asleep, also grasping each other for security, and she silently lifted them and placed them in the room Molly had prepared for them for the night, blinking away her tears and stroking back their hair, kissing their cheeks. Once more, she returned downstairs, now devoid of children, and stood in silence as Teddy poured them all (except Angelina) a shot of firewhiskey. "To Harry and Ginny." He toasted quietly, and they murmured it back, sipping at their drinks and grimacing as it burned down their throats.

Hermione saw Mrs Weasley excuse herself and trailed after her into the kitchen, rubbing her back reassuringly when she saw that she was hunched over the counter, wracked with sobs. "I'm s-so sor-r-ry." She gasped between gulps of air, but Hermione merely shook her head and pulled the older woman closer, whispering words of love and sorrow. It must have been nearly half an hour before Molly calmed down enough to form a coherent sentence, though she now had the hiccups. "You didn't- _hic_ \- manage to- _hic_ \- find Ron?" She merely shook her head in reply and stared miserably at the floor. "I'm- _hic_ \- sorry dear- _hic_ \- but I'm sure he- _hic_ -'ll be- _hic_ \- all right."

"I know he will, Mrs Weasley-"

"I've told you- _hic_ \- to call me Molly- _hic_ \- dear."

"Okay, Molly. I know he'll be fine, but I just..." Molly rubbed her arm consolingly. "I just hope he comes back soon." She closed her eyes as a tear trickled down her cheek, _strong strong strong_ , and gave a weak, unconvincing smile. "Come on, let's go back to the others."

 _8.40pm_

They were all gathered in the lounge, merely sitting there silently in their couples, Molly immediately moving to wrap herself into her husbands arms. Hermione sat opposite Charlie, the only other singleton, in front of the fire, and he gave her a half-smile as he glanced at her. They seemed to sit there for hours, no-one wanting to break the quiet but no-one wanting to go to bed, lest they dream. Their drinks lay ignored, though George was swirling his round and round, and Hermione found herself staring at hers, watching the reflection of the fire bounce in the amber liquid. Although she was surrounded by the family that had always taken her in as their own, she had never felt more alone, and still half-expected Ginny to burst through the door, yelling at them all for being miserable, and Harry to follow sheepishly, wearing the small loving grin he saved just for his wife. But they would never walk into the Burrow again, never kiss their children goodnight again, never make the room glow with their mere presence. She had to take a few steadying breaths, closing her eyes and seeing the light from the flames dance across her lids, almost hypnotically, before she was able to stop the flow of tears. _Strong strong strong_.

Her eyes met Bill's, still as handsome as ever with his long hair and fang earring, briefly, and she could see in the deep blue that he, too, wanted nothing more than to reverse time fourteen years, that if this terrible thing had happened they could at least comfort one another. She idly touched the rose ring that he had given her, that still hung around her neck, and had to duck her eyes to stop the moisture in them from spilling, unable to meet the eldest Weasley's gaze. It had been so long since their secret affair; when she and Ron were still only friends, when Fleur had left the country with Victoire, when they had fallen in love. Fourteen long years, but in moments like this, it was still easy to see the love that rested in his eyes, repressed but still burning, quietened but still aching, ever-present, ever-yearning, ever-loving. And it was clearer than ever when he looked at Rose, the daughter that only the two of them knew was truly his, not Ron's. After all, only they, her mother, Ginny and a dragon tamer called Toni had known about the hidden relationship, and Toni had been relocated to America before news of the pregnancy was announced whilst Hermione had openly lied to her mum about the father. And Ginny was... She had never told Ron or Rose about the true father, preferring to keep two families together rather than rip two apart.

In the years that had followed, Bill had been an indescribable help and friend to her, much to Fleur's chargrin. But as Fleur had never revealed if she really knew Bill to be Victoire's genetic father or not, he rarely cared for her opinion. As she glanced up to said woman, in-between wanting to vomit at how she was draping herself over Bill and slap her (she had done so once before, and it had been very satisfying), she wondered idly if she ever suspected the true paternity of Rose. But as soon as the thought came, it flew away; she hardly cared. It didn't matter now, not after today, not after losing Harry and Ginny...

...

But where the hell was Ron? Without being able to even look at Bill, she didn't think that she could be strong for much longer without him here; she had been considering leaving him, before the accident, but she couldn't even entertain the thought now, couldn't bring him more grief, so simply wanted him there, wanted to know he was okay. As if fate had answered her prayers, they heard the front door open and moments later, the youngest Weasley son, the youngest Weasley of all now, entered. Hermione jumped up, fully intending to throw her arms around her husband and not let him go ever again, but froze when she saw that he was wobbling and his gaze was vague. "Ron!" Molly cried, apparently not seeing his obviously drunken state. "Where have you been?"

His eyes fixed blearily on his mother. "Getting fucking pissed, that's where." He obviously saw her scowl as he suddenly yelled, "AND DON'T TELL ME TO MIND MY BLOODY LANGUAGE!"

Molly jumped back and Arthur gave his son a stern look. "Don't you _dare_ talk to your mother like that."

"Piss off."

"Ron!" Hermione cried, scandalised even as she cast a silencing charm so as to not disturb the sleeping children above.

He slowly turned to where she stood and she was terrified to see that his eyes were once more filled with the dark fury from earlier. Fate's answer was quickly turning into a nightmare. "You." He whispered. "You told me that it would be okay. That night, I wanted to come round with you, to help look after the kids, but you said that everything would be _okay_. And they died. They _fucking died_. THIS IS _YOUR_ FUCKING FAULT! YOU _TOLD_ THEM TO GO OUT! _I HATE YOU_!"

Hermione told herself that he was suffering from grief, that he was drunk, that the man she had grown to love with a quiet stability, her _husband_ , would never mean these words, but they still cut deep. It _was_ her fault, after all. "Ron..." She whispered, feeling her heart break.

"Just shut the _fuck_ up."

"Ron, I couldn't have known, I didn't know that-"

"THEN WHAT THE _FUCK_ ARE YOU GOOD FOR?! THAT'S ALL YOU'VE EVER BEEN GOOD FOR, KNOWING BLOODY EVERYTHING! SO WHY, WHEN IT MATTERS, DO YOU _NOT KNOW SHIT_?!"

She was crying openly now. "Ron-"

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!" He bellowed, and the next thing she knew she was on the floor, her cheek burning. She raised a trembling hand to the place he had struck her, gazing up at him with fear as he continued to rant and rave, even as Bill and Charlie jumped up and dragged their youngest brother out of the house.

When the two eldest brothers had removed Ron, they returned to find the Weasleys frozen in shock, Hermione still gazing at the point her husband had stood in. As if their reappearance had sparked a fuse, everyone jumped into action, crowding around her and asking if she was okay, Molly and Angelina weeping bitterly. She batted them away, pressing her wand to her swollen skin and murmuring a soothing charm and glamour, before sitting up, not meeting their eyes. _Have to be strong have to be strong have to be strong_. "I'm fine." She lied. "Let's not mention it again."

"'Mione-"

"No, Bill, he's not himself right now."

"But-"

"Where did you put him?"

Bill sighed in defeat, knowing all too well her stubbornness, though his eyes were still tinted the amber of the passionate wolf and man within him, and Charlie took over. "At Shell Cottage, in the spare bedroom; we put up some wards so that he can't leave the room until we let him out. We figured it was best to let him sleep it off."

Hermione nodded and attempted a small smile, unable to hide her wince when the sore muscles of her face twinged painfully. "I think I'll go to bed now. Goodnight everyone." And without another glance back, she went to the room where her children still slept and, casting a quick Muffliato, collapsed onto her bed, weeping into the pillow.

She couldn't believe that he'd hit her; this was _Ron_ , _her_ Ron, her _husband_ Ron! Except it wasn't, she supposed, not if the dark look in his eyes was any indication. No, the man that had returned to the Burrow tonight was not the man she loved as a friend all those years ago, not the man she had learnt to love as a husband, not the father of her son. He had had an issue with alcohol in the past, and she tried to reassure herself that he would once more beat the alcoholism and go back to being himself. Her mind drifted back to how he'd been when he was wearing that damned locket, when Voldemort's soul was poisoning his, but even then he hadn't looked as viciously furious as he had tonight. 'He's lost a best friend and a sister,' she attempted to reason with herself, but then she had too. And he hadn't even asked about Rose and Hugo, hadn't bothered to check if they were okay, hadn't kissed them goodnight. Even after Lily, Albus and James' emotional eulogy for their parents, he hadn't wanted to see his children, had saw fit to throw abuse and anger at her instead. She tried to tell herself that things would be better tomorrow, but then remembered that Harry and Ginny would still be dead, the world would still make no sense, and it would all still be _her_ fault.

The door cracked open and a familiar silhouette stood in the pale candle-light, before shutting it behind them and engulfing the room in the pitch black once more. Bill moved to crouch next to her bed, his fingers resting gently on her swollen cheek, brow furrowed in a mixture of fury and concern; lightly touching, but nothing more. Not any more. "That must hurt." He whispered into the night, wiping away a tear as she sniffled in agreement. "I'll make him pay for hurting you." His tone was as dark as the room now and, unbidden, she felt a rush of desire at the husky growl in his voice.

Telling herself firmly to _get a grip_ , she placed a hand over his and moved it away from her face, their fingers naturally entwining as she did so. "No, Bill. He wasn't himself."

"I don't care. He hurt you."

"I'm fine, really." She lied. _Strong_.

He began idly stroking her palm with his thumb, the bright glints of his eyes never moving from hers. "You can't lie to me, Hermione. I know you too well." She blamed her raging hormones and emotions entirely on a stressful day, and as if he could sense her weariness, he untangled their fingers and picked up the glittering ring on the chain around her neck, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "We'll talk more tomorrow." He promised, before kissing her forehead and exiting.

As soon as he had left it was if the agony that she had felt fourteen years ago returned tenfold, except now there was no red-headed woman to hold her and soothe her when her broken heart became too much. She wept for the lives that Harry and Ginny could've had, wept for the children that were now left orphans, wept for poor Teddy who must surely now be feeling more alone than ever. And she wept for herself, furious tears that boiled out of her body as if determined to scorch her for allowing herself to feel self-pity. _Strong my fault strong my fault strong my fault_. It was like a mantra running through her head, one she knew she would never be able to quieten, just as she would never be able to silence the ghosts that haunted her. Crying desperately and mourning so much, she eventually fell asleep gazing at her son and daughter, and labelling this as the worst day of her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** Okay, time to reply to my fantabulous reviewers :) Crossy, you may have to wait a bit but *spoiler alert* there will be some Bill/Mione action in a wee bit ;) bookworm, you are one of my favourite reviewers, but if I told you the ending it would ruin the journey, hehe. However I will, just for you, have cookies in this story :) Guests, I'm really happy that you like it! Amethyst, hope you continue enjoying, and that maybe you won't cry again! Roon0 I agree, she's in need of a good arse-kicking.

 **Chapter 4**

 _6.58am_

She woke the next morning to find that Hugo and Rose had crawled into bed with her during the night, and she was clutching her son tight to her chest whilst her daughter hugged her waist, their faces pressed snug together. She attempted to wriggle out without disturbing them, but as soon as she removed her arms from around them they stirred and gazed at her with twin brown eyes.

"Mum?" Hugo murmured, still awakening as he blinked the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm here darlings."

Rose gazed at her sadly. "Was it all a dream mum? Yesterday?"

Kissing the tops of their heads and pulling them close once again, she sighed. "I'm afraid not. But today is a new day."

"Did dad come back last night?" Her young voice asked, and Hermione tensed.

She made a split-second decision that a lie would be best. "No, sweetheart, but he sent a letter and he's okay and safe. He should be back later today."

Hugo turned to her and frowned. "Why didn't he want to be with us?"

She closed her eyes and sighed sadly. "Let's go get some breakfast kids, you barely ate anything yesterday." They moved without question, knowing that, despite their mum's resilience, she was hurting badly after the day before.

They pulled on their dressing-gowns in silence but before they left Hermione was struck with the memory of their tear-stricken faces the night before, and crouched down to their level. "Rosie, Hugo, you know that even though I've been spending time with Teddy, James, Albus and Lily, I'm always here for you, right? I love you, and your dad loves you, and we will never stop. If you ever need to cry, or scream or just need a hug, we'll be there for you." She resisted the moisture in her eyes as she remembered that not only had Harry and Ginny been an aunt and uncle, they'd also been her children's godparents. "You two a-are the most important thing to m-me and dad in the world. The whole world. P-please never forget that."

They both hugged her tightly, and Hugo whimpered, "I miss them mum. And I want to see dad, I don't understand why he's not here."

Rose, who had much more of her mother's perceptiveness, looked at her mother's eyes and was silent; she knew that the last thing she needed was more pain from them. "We love you too, mum." She said eventually, and Hermione gave a small, sad smile, kissing her forehead sweetly.

"Come on, food time!"

Molly was already in the kitchen, but moving in a stoic way, as if it was merely instinct that drove her to cook the enormous mound of sausages, bacon and eggs. Hermione jumped immediately to help her, waving her wand and making a loaf of bread slice and toast itself, whilst also setting the kettle to boil and directing some tomatoes to cook. Just as she was about to summon some juice and milk from the fridge, she froze as Rose and Hugo were already there, grabbing the cold drinks and condiments and placing them quietly on the table. She flashed them both a grateful look, touched by their desire to help, and summoned their favourite toast topping; Nutella. Her children gave small smiles as it appeared, but their attempt at joy was short lived as, at that moment, the Potters entered. Suddenly it was no longer just another day cooking breakfast, but it was the day after the funeral, the day after their pain became finite, the day after the loss of Harry and Ginny became inescapably real. The first day of the new world that made no sense whatsoever.

Albus instantly sat next to Rose, who gave him a brief squeeze of the hand, and Lily and James sat either side of Hugo, all of them forcing weary, strained smiles at one another. Molly waved her wand and she heard the distinct sound of multiple bodies jerking awake, followed by a stream of Weasleys (and Teddy) looking weary, irritated, but immediately brightened by the smell of breakfast. Hermione made the food pile itself onto plates and skid onto the table as the kettle poured itself into two separate pots, one for tea and the other for coffee. The men immediately heaped mounds of food onto their plates, so much that Hermione was in awe that they could even fit that amount in their stomachs. She shared a small smirk with Audrey, who was looking with a kind of disgusted wonder as Charlie shovelled sausages into his mouth without seeming to breathe, before helping herself to a lone piece of toast. She ate quietly, frowning when she saw that the Potter children had not inherited the Weasley ability to eat no matter what was happening in the world, and even more upset when she saw that her children were also nibbling on single pieces of toast, pushing the heaps of food Molly had piled on their plates around, looking glum. When called on their lack of food they blushed scarlet and refused to look at their Grandma, and the table fell into an awkward silence, the eggs on George's fork dropping with a splatter.

To break the silence, Teddy opened his mouth, but was cut across by Lily's sharp demand. "Aunt Hermione, what happened to your face?!"

She looked offended, and began patting her hair self-consciously, before brushing her cheek and wincing in pain. She froze; in her concern for her children she had forgotten to replace the glamour on her face, and in the sunrise the blue and purple skin was thrown into sharp relief. She smiled at them all, attempting to laugh, but it came across as hollow and dead. "Don't worry about anything, I just tripped walking upstairs last night." The five children frowned, Bill, Charlie and Percy scowled, and Mrs Weasley looked to her feet in sadness. But she ignored them all and focussed instead on sipping her coffee and looking innocent.

Bill suddenly stood, his chair scraping away from the table in a painfully screeching sound. "Charlie, I think we'd better go."

His brother, once more filling his mouth, though this time with toast, said, "Mhghfmw?" At the confused looks that met him, he swallowed deeply and repeated; "What for?"

"We need to check on a few things."

Bill's look was dark, and Charlie's mouth popped open in understanding. "You're right. Let's go." The pair quickly left, followed by five confused pairs of eyes.

"Mum, what-" Hugo began, but Molly but across him.

"George, why don't you and the others go out to the paddock?" They all knew what that meant, of course; the paddock meant Quidditch.

The majority of the younger people were still staring at Hermione with confusion, and though George looked like the last thing in the world he wanted to do was go flying, at an encouraging nod from Angelina, he plastered a smile on his face. "That sounds good, come on you guys." He stood and clapped James and Hugo on the shoulders, followed by Angelina who wrapped her arms around Rose and Lily and led them outside. Albus stayed for a little longer, green eyes boring into her, but Teddy eventually coaxed him outside.

...

Audrey offered to clean up and so Hermione led Molly through to the living room, sitting her down with a cup of tea and joining her in silent thought. "Hermione dear," She eventually started, "about last night-"

She sighed and interrupted. "Molly, like I said, let's not mention it again."

The woman once more had moisture in her eyes. "I know, but I just want to make sure that you know it wasn't Ron who did that. It was just... After the day, he wasn't himself. And the drinking, of course... I'm sure he feels awful about it today."

"You don't have to convince me, I wont hold it against him." She replied quietly.

She returned with an affectionate half-smile. "You're such a special woman Hermione. I'm so glad that Ron found you." Hermione forced her face to look appreciative before excusing herself to return to her own house, with the excuse of picking up a change of clothes for Hugo and Rose, as they'd undoubtedly be covered in mud after Quidditch. She flooed rather than apparating, as she had only managed about two hours sleep and felt exhaustion pressing down on her like a dead weight, and had no desire to concentrate on not splinching herself. Brushing the soot off her shoulders as she stepped into their lounge, she shuffled upstairs and packed some things for the two children, herself and Ron, should he decide to appear.

After she'd shrunk and pocketed the bag full of clothing and other essentials, she meandered through their empty, silent home, lightly brushing her fingers over the banister of the staircase and feeling miserable. "Strong. Strong. Strong..." She sighed heavily, before sitting down ungainly on the sofa. She held her head in her hands and rubbed her temples in an attempt to force away the headache that was quickly growing, letting her head roll clumsily from side to side under her fingers. She gently touched the still-aching spot on her cheek and frowned; of course she couldn't hold Ron's actions against him, she loved him and he needed her support, not her vindication. Now was the time for their family to be together rather than torn apart, a time for them to pull together and help each other muddle through their grief, not obsess over drunken words and split-second mistakes.

But Hermione frowned, knowing that there was a bigger reason, knowing that she could never admit it to anyone, knowing that all of Ron's accusations were right. It was her fault Harry and Ginny were dead, and she could hardly blame him for his anger at her. She thought about the others she should have saved, during the war; Lavender, Fred, Remus, the countless strangers she had seen fall beside her. She opened her weary eyes but found them dry, apparently she was all cried out, though she idly thought that it wasn't surprising as she had been crying over these fallen people for the last fourteen years.

The nightmares had begun shortly after she and Bill had been torn apart, dark dreams that tore at her until she was nearly mad with grief. She had felt the guilt in the six years after the war, but through Bill's gentle coaxing had learnt to accept that she wasn't to blame, and that without her by Harry and Ron's side, they surely would've lost the war. As soon as she lost his soothing touch, however, and coupled with her crippling guilt at being married to a man when she was hopelessly in love with his brother, her sleep began to haunt her. After months of waking up sweating and screaming countless times and tears that Ron's words seemed unable to sooth, and between their hectic workloads at the Ministry, he stopped trying to relieve her guilt and it had settled in a dark cloud around her heart. She had even taken to casting a silencing spell when they lay together in bed, as the irritation on his features when she woke him was only enhancing the storm. She had acted as though everything was fine, of course, and fell into the habit of locking the pain deep within, where no-one would ever find it, even herself. Now though, when her failure had caused the worst trauma imaginable, it came back with a burning intensity, and it hurt. It fucking hurt.

So no, she couldn't blame Ron for his outburst, in fact she almost envied him for it. She wanted to swear and scream and rage at everyone, at someone, at anyone, but she couldn't. Because it was all her; _her_ burden, _her_ shame, _her fault_. Her husbands words the previous night swirled through her head and she slumped even further into the cushions. "You'll never hate me as much as I hate myself." She whispered, wanting to sink into the seat and disappear. But then her son and daughters faces swam before her eyes, followed by Teddy, James, Albus, little Lily... _Strong_. She unfolded herself from her hunched position and, standing tall, straightened her back, flicked her hair out of her face and arranged her features into a neutral expression, before returning to the Burrow.

 _8.04am_

She was relieved to find that Bill and Charlie had returned, but disappointed that she couldn't see Ron anywhere. She sat opposite the two eldest Weasley children at the kitchen table and gave them a despairing look. "How is he?"

Bill scowled and Charlie sighed, muttering, "He's awake. We threw him into the shower before we left."

"He has no business smelling like a brewery when he sees his children." Bill bit out. "What are you going to do when he gets here?"

"I'm sure he'll apologise when he arrives, and I'll just tell him to not let it happen again." The pair across from her scowled. "We all need to be a family right now, no matter what."

"But 'Mione-"

"It's her choice," Mrs Weasley cut across, flashing her a smile. "and I happen to completely agree with it. None of us were ourselves yesterday."

The two men stood up sharply, their chairs scraping the floor harshly. "You didn't catch anyone else drinking themselves stupid!" Charlie hissed through gritted teeth.

"Or saying hateful things, or _hitting_ anyone, let alone his bloody wife!" Bill added darkly. "And what about Hugo and Rose, mum? He didn't even _ask_ how they were."

"You can't just let him get away with it 'Mione." Charlie stated, and she sighed heavily.

"I appreciate the concern, guys, but it wasn't Ron last night. I just want to forget the whole thing, move on from it and-"

She was cut off by the floo activating and her husband's voice calling through the house. It was soon followed by his gangly form and he immediately pulled her into a tight hug, smelling heavily of soap. "'Mione, I'm so sorry about yesterday, so, _so_ , sorry."

She hugged him back and smiled against his shoulder. "It's okay Ron, we all make mistakes."

He shook his head and pulled back, his blue eyes looking regretful. "No, it's not okay. I can't believe I just ran off like that! I just left you and the kids alone, and I slipped up on the drinking again; I don't even remember half of the day." He gave her a sad half-smile. "I was just so... I just couldn't believe... I mean, I know it's been a week since they've been gone, but yesterday just..." Eyes swimming, he gave a humourless chuckle. "I ended up at Shell Cottage, you know? No idea how, bit random isn't it?"

Her mouth had popped open at some point; he didn't remember a _single_ _thing_. "Yeah." She muttered faintly. "Very random."

"How are Rosie and Hugo doing?" He asked, sincere concern etched across his face.

"They're upset, but they've been so brave, trying to help the Potter kids. I'm so proud of them. They've been missing you though."

Ron smiled weakly at her. "And how are you doing love?"

She shrugged. "It's been... I mean I'm... Well that doesn't matter right now, we have to be strong for the others." Ron nodded, looking ashamed, and she gave him a small kiss. "I picked up some spare clothes for you, why don't you go change then see the children?" He nodded gratefully and grabbed the bag of things she'd brought, disappearing quickly upstairs to get out of the far too large t-shirt and dark blue jeans he'd borrowed from Bill.

Said man now glared murderously around. " _He doesn't even remember?!_ " He exclaimed, sounding disgusted, eyes flashing amber dangerously.

Charlie suddenly rounded on Hermione, the blazing look in his eyes making her flinch slightly. "He didn't even notice your bloody bruise!"

She shook her head slightly, frowning in disbelief. "I guess not. But he can't know what happened, he'd never forgive himself."

The two men sighed in exasperation. "He shouldn't ever forgive himself, Hermione, he _hit you_!" Bill replied in outrage.

Charlie matched his brother's expression, down to the tightly clenched jaw and flashing eyes. "Bill's right 'Mione, he has to know what he did."

Molly suddenly cut across, in a quiet, saddened voice. "I agree... With Hermione." Her sons glared at her in shock, but she merely closed her eyes and shook her head. "He won't do it again, and the last thing he needs right now is more pain."

"And what about Hermione, mum?" Bill suddenly exploded. "In case you haven't noticed, Ron isn't the only one who lost a damn best friend and a sister! And you don't see 'Mione going around throwing abuse at people and _hitting them_!"

Charlie was nodding his head vigorously in agreement, and Hermione smiled gratefully and placed a hand on each of their shoulders soothingly, and to stop Bill from running up the stairs after his brother. "I appreciate your worry, but this is the best way. He'll never remember, never do it again, and never feel the guilt." They opened their mouths to protest again, but she cut across it. "Really, thank you for worrying, and I understand where you're coming from, but this is between Ron and I." They deflated in defeat and shared a grim look, Mrs Weasley seeming relieved, but still glum.

Ron returned, looking much more like himself in his Chudley Cannons hoodie and grey pants, but freezing as soon as his gaze met Hermione's. "What happened to your face?!" He demanded, stalking over and raising a finger to brush her bruised cheek, not noticing her slight flinch as he stormed angrily towards her.

She gave an attempt at a benign look and laughed hollowly. "I tripped on the stairs on the way to bed last night. It's nothing really."

He frowned at her, but seemed to believe her lie. "'Mione love, you have to be careful! That looks really painful." She shook her head and ushered him outside to see the children, Mrs Weasley following behind him looking marginally happier, ignoring the scowls that Bill and Charlie sent her way.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** Why helloooo there! Got another chapter here for you, but first I'm going to be irritating and put another big-ass author's note up. This story isn't going to be 'happy' for quite a while; what story starting with a funeral is? But please guys, stick with me through it, loads of you have done already and you're so amazing for it, I'm really grateful. Especially to my reviewers, including...

Pianomouse; don't worry about the rant, I'm flattered that I've made you care! And I'm very glad you're still enjoying it :) Guest; I completely agree that abuse is wrong, if I saw this happening in real life I'd be going crazy, but that's the beauty of creative writing I guess. And kudos for your research! Hope you're enjoying it anyway. Crossy; I'd genuinely love H to get a spine of steel, but unfortunately I don't think it would work with this story... Not yet at least, possible spoiler! Cherokee, I'm glad you love it!

Last, but never ever least, bookworm. I read your most recent comment and it really touched me; having someone defend you like that is just so amazing. There have been multiple times when people have left cruel comments and I've considered giving up on fanfiction, or writing altogether, but it's reviewers like you that keep me going. People seem to flame all the time, but it's so very rare that you you get someone kind enough to defend you. So, if you'd like, (and as this chapter doesn't have that much cheerfulness in it) you can give me a pairing and/or situation, and I will write a oneshot dedicated to you :) Never done this kind of thing before, but I want to let you know how much I appreciate what you said :)

Please continue to fave, follow and review! Now...

.

 **Chapter 5  
**

 **.**

 _8.31am_

George and Angelina came in from the paddock a moment later, and were immediately accosted by the elder men, who demanded to know how George seemed so calm about what Ron had done. Their younger brother gave a tremendous sigh and rubbed his face in exhaustion. "Because I kind of understand how Ron's feeling right now." He said lowly. "After Fred... Well, I went crazy. Angry, upset, broken... I had issues with alcohol too, 'Mione knows that. She found me passed out in a gutter one night and after that I used to go to her place, so wasted I could barely speak." Angelina held him tightly, and he placed a protective hand on her swollen belly. "You guys didn't see the half of it; I trashed the whole shop one night, ended up nearly dead from the potions in the air. But Angelina helped me through it, made me see sense, let me move on from the mistakes I made."

"Everyone seems to have forgotten that Ron isn't the only one who lost a best friend and a sister, Hermione did too!" Charlie raged.

"It was one mistake, and I'll bet he'll never stop apologising for it."

Bill scoffed. "Yeah right. He doesn't even remember it."

.

To their collective shock, Angelina spoke up in a quiet voice. "That might be even better, we won't have to help him through the guilt of what he's done. Hermione's forgiven him, that's all that matters."

Bill jumped up and started pacing, yelling furiously. "So what, we're just supposed to forget that our _brother_ hit his _wife_?! That he _blamed her_ for Harry and Ginny's _death_? That he fucking _walked out_ on his family, his _children_?!"

George suddenly interrupted his eldest brother's tirade and stood in front of him, looking miserable. "Bill, we're all hurting, and we're all angry, and we can't even bloody believe what's happened, but you can't take that out on Ron! It's not fair on him."

Charlie suddenly leapt up to join them, rounding on his one-eared brother. "But it's okay for him to take it out on Hermione? It's _fair_ for him to abandon his kids? Hermione has been nothing but strong for the last week, she's been holding this family together even though she must be hurting more than we can imagine; looking after Rose and Hugo, looking after James, Albus and Lily, looking after mum, looking after fucking _everyone_! And where has Ron been? Who the hell even knows?! All we know is that he's bloody _drinking_ again! Hermione, who has lost two best friends as well as a brother and sister, is the one that's been helping everyone and not asking for anything in return, the one who's been here for us all even though she was worried about her husband, the one who-"

.

"-is still here." Hermione interrupted quietly. The four people in the room snapped their heads to look at her, taking in her tear-stained face as she was leaning against the kitchen door, holding her wand loosely. "I cast a silencing charm." She whispered, "I didn't want the others to hear." _Strong strong strong strong strong_. As Angelina moved to comfort her, she pushed her away and gave a weak smile. "I'm okay, thank you."

George looked stricken. "'Mione, I'm really sorry. I'm not trying to justify what he did, I just-"

"It's fine, George, everything you said was right."

He seemed to not hear her. "-doesn't excuse what happened, nothing ever will, but he just needs help now. And don't get me wrong, I know you do too, but you've always been so much stronger than anyone else."

She gave him a watery smile. "I'll help Ron through whatever. I'm sure it was just the drink talking yesterday, and we beat the alcoholism once, we can do it again."

.

At that moment the subject of their conversation burst through the door and grabbed her arm rather painfully, dragging her out of the kitchen. "'Mione, I'm sorry."

She frowned. "Ron, what's going on?"

He clutched her even tighter. "I'm sorry."

"Ron, you're hurting me!"

He let go of her as if he'd received an electric shock, and stared at her in despair. "I can't do it." He whispered. "I can't be here."

She blinked in shock. "What-"

"I have to go."

Her mouth dropped open and she felt a strange anger growing within her. "Ron, Rose and Hugo _need_ you! They needed you yesterday and they need you today! Hell, they've needed you for the last week! James, Albus and Lily need you too, _I_ need you! You can't leave again!"

"I'm sorry 'Mione, but they just look too much like..." He trailed off, tears in his eyes, and she wanted to comfort him, hug him and tell him that everything would be okay, but the children's faces swam in her mind.

"This isn't about us and about how much we're hurting, we have to be here for our family! It's our duty as parents, godparents and Weasleys! We can cry and scream and collapse later, together, but right now you're needed! You have to be strong! Rose, Hugo, James, Teddy, our entire family, they _need_ you! Please, _please_ , I'm _begging you_ , don't leave again!"

.

He shook his head and refused to look at her. "I'm sorry." He repeated. She barely had time to cry out his name before he had stepped into the fireplace and disappeared. She fell to her knees on the floor, vaguely appreciating the irony of the fact that she had been in this very same place last night, and forced the tears back. George's words swam through her head, 'you've always been so much stronger than anyone else.' She bowed her head again, she hadn't been strong enough to save all of those people... But she had to act it. _Strong strong strong_.

As if her thoughts had called him, George walked through the door and sat next to her, cross-legged. "Where's Ron?" He asked, frowning slightly, and she merely pointed to the fireplace. "He left again?"

She nodded, sighing. "He said he couldn't deal with it. Merlin only knows what I'm going to say to Hugo and Rose."

He shifted awkwardly. "Look, 'Mione, what I said before... I didn't mean to say that everything was okay with you, or that we weren't here for you, it's just that, well..."

She rested a hand on his knee. "I know, and I don't blame you for saying it. Ron, Rose and Hugo need the most help now; I'll manage." _STRONG STRONG STRONG_. He held her hand and looked gratefully at her. "Is your dad still in the shed?"

He nodded slightly. "He's working on the old Ford Anglia again."

She sighed slightly, the only time Arthur had spent out of his shed in the last week was for the funeral, for meals, and to comfort Molly at night. "I'm sure he'll be out soon." She said in a soothing voice - _have to be strong_ \- as she rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

George nodded, before raising his eyes to hers. "How are you, really?"

"I'm... The others need me. Like I said, I'll manage."

He frowned but a smile pulled at his lips. "I meant what I said; you're stronger than anyone else I know."

.

She attempted to look at him happily, but was saved the effort by the sound of the front door banging open, and a mass of people bursting into the lounge. She stood up and caught a sobbing Rose and Hugo into a hug, comforting them as they told her of their dad's quick departure. She noticed James' hurt expression and let Molly take her children so she could envelope him in a tight hug, reassuring him that his godfather loved him and wanted to be there for him. Everyone other than George and Angelina had decided to leave the paddock at the same time, and with Bill, Charlie, and Molly's reappearance, the whole Weasley clan, except Arthur and, of course Ron, were gathered in the room, looking at her expectantly. "Ron had to leave for work." She lied blatantly, not wanting to see the hurt in her children's eyes.

"He'd rather work than spend time with us?" Hugo asked glumly.

She moved to hug him tightly. "Of course not, darling. He wants to be with you and Rosie so much, but he had to go to work, he didn't have a choice."

Rose's face made the perfect imitation of Hermione's when Ron and Harry had lied. "Mum, what's going on?"

Hugo frowned, speaking as if his sister was insane. "Dad had to go to work, Rose."

Hermione sighed, but hid it as she kissed her daughter's head. "Everything is going to be okay Rose." She whispered.

.

Teddy suddenly spoke up. "Work? _Work_?! What the-" He glanced at Mrs Weasley and his face closed over, before leaving, closely followed by Victoire, James and Albus. Molly fell even further into her seat, and she seemed to be lost without Arthur's form around her. But Hermione refused to look at her, at anyone in fact, the burn of her lie eating at her.

"Mum?" Rose whispered in her ear, as Hugo cuddled into her other side. "Are you ok?"

She stood up and moved to the sofa, patting the spaces either side of her to tell them to join her, and wrapping an arm around each of them. She held them and told them that Ron loved them, and that she was okay, and that someday everything would be all right.

"I wish dad was here." Hugo murmured as he fell asleep. 'I do too,' she thought glumly.

.

 _10.02pm_

 _._

It was five days before she saw Ron next. They had moved back into their own home three days after the funeral, though the Potters were regular guests and all their other friends and family had open invitations and took advantage of this to check on Hermione, Rose and Hugo. Every guest enquired as to Ron's presence, Bill and Charlie with scowls, and she answered the same every time; "He's needed at work, and needs some time alone."

So it was nearly a week later that Ron re-appeared, at ten at night, when the children were mercifully asleep. He staggered through the door, eyes glazed and face flushed, giggling madly when Hermione caught him."I nearrrly fellllllll!" He slurred manically.

She sighed; she had seen him like this years ago and had hoped never to see him like it again. "Ron, let's get you to bed."

His drunken face frowned. "Don't wanna go beddddd. Hehe, that's funny, beddd-ud-ud-ud."

"You're drunk, you need sleep."

He suddenly straightened and glared at her. "Don't tell me whaddado! What're you even doing here?!"

She ran her hand through her hair and attempted to calm herself. "Ron, love, I live here, with you. I'm here to help you, okay?"

.

He suddenly shoved her back, hard enough so that she hit the floor. "I DON'T NEED HELP!" He bellowed, leaning over her floor-bound stricken form. She cowered, seeing the same madness from the night he struck her, and instinctively covered her face. Moments later, his hand was resting on her shoulder and his voice was tearful. "Merlin, I'm so sorry 'Mione. Please forgive me."

She covered her eyes in an attempt to hide the tears, and, without looking at her husband, murmured, "Go and kiss Hugo and Rose. They miss you."

"Hermione-"

"Our children are what matter now." To her slight distress but great relief he left her, and she drew her wand to cast soothing charms on the places that his push had harmed her, letting the tears fall free for a minute. She closed her eyes as she heard him stumbling up the stairs and stood up slowly, allowing her bruised body time to adjust. _Strong strong strong_. She forced herself to the stairs and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, supporting him as he staggered up the stairs and helped him to be gentle as he kissed their children's heads.

.

"Mum?" Rose called softly.

Ron frowned. "No, it's me Rosie."

"Dad!" Hugo called happily, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "We've missed you, where have you been?"

"I've been busy, is that so wrong?" Ron growled loudly, and Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Dad's back now, and that's what matters." She smiled at their children.

"But where have you been Dad?" Hugo asked again, and Hermione, seeing the anger burning in his eyes, quickly pushed him out.

"Dad's tired, love, he'll see you tomorrow." She said, before closing the door and casting a swift silencing charm over the room.

.

She quickly rounded on her husband, "Why are you so angry Ron? You're practically yelling at Rose and looked like you were about to have a go at at Hugo for a simple question! One which I would also like answered; where the hell have you been?!"

He chuckled darkly and started stumbling back downstairs. "Your answer for your first question," he said as he poured a healthy measure of whiskey and downed it, "is that I have every damn right to be angry." He poured himself another measure and glared at her."As for where I've been; I didn't realise I had to let you know my every movement."

Her rational mind told her that he was drunk but then she thought of the Weasleys, the Potters, her own children, and anger grew within her. "We all have a right to be angry, Ron, but we have to put it aside for those we love! And we're married, we have two children together, and you have to be there for them. If you don't feel the need to tell me where you go for days on end, you should at least tell your children. It's you're duty as a father."

His temper snapped as he swigged straight from the bottle. "MAYBE I DON'T WANT THAT FUCKING DUTY!"

.

She calmed herself and tried to hold back the fear born from the strike and shove he had inflicted upon her. Years before, when she and Bill had been fresh into their romance, Ron had had similar alcoholic incidents, saying or doing the wrong thing, inevitably hurting someone or other. These incidents had become increasingly frequent after Rose and Hugo had been born, but after years of AA and therapy she had hoped that perhaps his drunken temper would not be seen again. However, as the other night had proven, it had returned with a vengeance; he had never, to her knowledge, struck anyone before.

.

"Ron," she started, using her best soothing voice, "it's not a choice. We have two beautiful children who need us right now. We can have our grief later on, when they're back at Hogwarts, but right now they _need_ us to be strong." He sighed heavily and she continued. "Just like the Potters and your own family, not to mention Teddy, Neville, Luna, _everyone_! They've all been struggling the last two weeks and-"

"Are you saying that I've been neglecting them?"

The dark, furious look in his eyes told her to lie, but once more the images of all the children, all the Weasleys, all their friends, swum before her eyes. "Yes, Ron, you have." She stated. "They need you, all of them."

His look became sour. "And why can't you be there for them?"

"I am!" She exclaimed. "But I can't be Rose and Hugo's father, or James's godfather, or Molly and Arthur's son, or Bill, Charlie, Percy and George's brother! I can't do that! I can't be you! They need _you_ Ron! We all need _you_!"

He suddenly grasped her arm painfully. "And who's here for me, 'Mione? Who's here when _I_ need someone?"

She blinked, wincing at his tight grip. "I am, Ron. If you'll just let me be here, I'll help you."

She realised too late that she had said the wrong words, as Ron roared, "I DON'T NEED FUCKING HELP!" He smashed the half-full bottle of whiskey against her head and she knew only darkness.

.

 _9.12am_

 _._

She was awoken to the sound of a soothing charm and the feel of a wand on her forehead, which she was very grateful for, as it was pounding awfully. She noticed another magical force working on the side which seemed sore too, and then she remembered the previous night. "Where's Ron?" She muttered, ignoring the rasp and pain in her throat.

"Does anywhere else hurt?" A voice asked.

She flexed her muscles and flinched. "Upper right arm."

Hands moved to lower her sweater and two voices winced. She also grimaced when she saw the purple imprints on her skin, looking undoubtedly like fingertips. Moving her head once more, she saw the two eldest Weasley children frowning at her. "So," Charlie started, "will you finally confront Ron now?"

She swallowed heavily. "Ron didn't do this. He came home last night and when he went to bed, I had a few glasses of firewhiskey." Charlie swore loudly, but Bill merely stared at her. "He kissed the kids goodnight and then went to bed." She lied.

"We're not stupid." Bill murmured. "And neither are you. Don't lie to me 'Mione, please. What's going on?" She noticed Charlie give a slightly confused look towards his brother at his soft, intimate tone, but it went unquestioned.

.

"Nothing." She said firmly. "Where are the children?"

"At the Burrow," Charlie replied, "we sent them there when we came here and found you."

She groaned as she forced herself into a sitting position. "Did they see me like this?"

Bill was still piercing her with that intense gaze of his, and she found herself looking anywhere but at his sapphire eyes. "No." He said softly. "No, they didn't. You know it's not safe for them, for any of you. What if Ron tries to-"

"Don't you _dare_ imply that I'm not keeping my children safe, William Weasley." She hissed.

"He's right though, next time he could go for Hugo or Rose." Charlie added gently.

She forced herself to stand and looked at them coldly. "I told you, Ron didn't do this. Now, where is he?"

.

Bill silently watched her as his younger brother began a stream of whispered expletives, and when he finally spoke his voice was no louder than a breath. "Why won't you let us help you?"

The sincere worry in his tone almost made her resolve fail, but she steeled herself and met his eyes. "If it was Victoire that had died you'd do anything to be there for Dom and Louis."

He nodded. "True, but I'd also let other people help. You're not alone, Hermione, and I don't care what George said about you being strong enough. You _are_ , but the point is you shouldn't _have_ to be. Being a Weasley is about always being there for each other, so please _let us be there for you_."

"I'm not the one that needs help right not, Ron and the children are."

Charlie, now seemingly calmed, joined Bill in gazing at her, and the matching hardness in their expressions gave her the distinct feeling of being interrogated, though his voice was just as gentle as his brothers. "Hermione, we can help more than one person at once."

"I'm strong enough to survive this." She whispered, looking imploringly at them. "Please, don't make this any harder for Ron or anyone else than it already is." She now spoke directly to the eldest Weasley son and was mortified to hear the begging noise that came from her mouth, but she couldn't seem to help it. "Bill, you're a parent as well, I have to look after Rose and Hugo, they're my priority. And I know that Ron will understand that too, so just give him some time."

.

Charlie shook his head wearily and moved away, muttering cleaning and repairing charms and making her briefly wonder what on earth Ron had done to the house after knocking her out, but soon her attention was taken by an all too familiar hand grasping hers. "Why wont you let me help?" Bill was now the one who sounded like he was begging. "How can you expect me to just sit back and watch this happen to you, think that it could happen to Rose?"

She rested a hand gently on his cheek, as he had done the week before, and he leaned into it, closing his eyes and looking pained. "I can do this, Bill, I can help him."

He moved closer to where she knelt on the floor, eyes open and blazing once more. "You would've done anything to protect me from Fleur." He whispered, gazing searchingly at her.

"Yes." She breathed. "But this is different, Ron's just hurting."

He frowned and seemed to stare even more intently at her. "There's something you're not telling me." He stated bluntly, and she swallowed the lump in her throat; he had always been able to read her like a book.

.

Before she could open her mouth to defend herself, the kitchen door slammed open and Ron stumbled through, nearly tripping on a chair. She could tell the exact moment he noticed their intimate position, because his face suddenly turned red and he gave a snarl, lunging forward on unsteady feet. Bill immediately stood and pulled her up behind him, defending her with his body and the wand she now saw pointed at his youngest brother's chest.

"What the hell's going on here?" Ron slurred, lurching back, his breath stinking once more of alcohol.

"I suggest you leave, before I do something you will regret." Bill threatened, voice angrier than she had ever heard it before.

"You'd hex your brother?" He seemed confused as he swayed on the spot. "Why?" Hermione grabbed Bill's arm to stop him from lunging there and then, but he paid her no attention.

"Why would you attack your own wife?" He hissed back, and Ron frowned.

"Attack my wife? I wouldn't attack my wife. 'Mione!" He suddenly called out, seeing her form peeking out from behind Bill's back, as he'd evidently already forgotten she was there. "Tell him I wouldn't attack you! Come here love." He lurched forward, and instinctively she darted out to steady him before he fell over, earning her a drunken grin. "I love you 'Mione." He declared, before grabbing her hair and pulling her in for a sloppy kiss that tasted of beer and filth.

.

Bill placed a hand on her shoulder and eased her back, thankfully releasing her from her husband's quickly wondering hands and standing by her side, still glaring. "Hey, whadya do that for?" Ron complained, moving to grab Hermione again and scowling when she instinctively moved closer to his brother. "Hey," He suddenly seemed to remember his first question, "what was going on when I got back? You two were holding hands!" His volume was quickly rising as he looked accusingly at Hermione. "What the hell are you doing with my brother?!" She tried to interrupt him but he was advancing quickly, face now crimson with alcohol and rage. "How long have you been fucking him? How-"

He was cut off by Charlie's re-entrance, as he stood protectively on Hermione's other side. "Ron, you need to calm down." He said bluntly, his wand joining Bill's to point at his brother.

"Both of them?" Ron hissed, eyes narrowing in disgust at her. "You're doing both of them? At the same time?"

She had had enough. "Honestly." She huffed, moving past the men, pushing their wands down as she did, and standing in front of her husband, glaring up at him. "I haven't been sleeping with anyone, Ronald; Bill and Charlie simply came over to pick up the kids and take them to the Burrow. I'm your _wife_ , I'm not about to cheat on you."

.

She didn't know what it was that she had said or done, but he suddenly deflated, collapsing to his knees and weeping bitterly. "I'm sorry, 'Mione, I'm so sorry. I just m-miss them s-so m-much." She joined him on the floor, holding him tightly and whispering soothing words into his ear as she rocked him back and forth until he quietened. "Do we have any sobering potion?" He sniffed weakly. "I'd like to see Rosie and Hugo." Not wanting to leave him there, she told Charlie where to find said substance, and continued her gentle ministrations and reassurances, until he returned. She helped him drink the liquid, then waited the few minutes it took to take affect, before kissing him gently and telling him to take a shower and change his clothes. He looked apologetically at his brothers as he passed them, receiving only stony glares in return, pausing simply to say, "I love you Hermione, I'd never hurt you."

.

When he had vanished upstairs and she could hear the shower running, she finally turned to the eldest Weasley brothers and gave a tired sigh. Charlie still looked livid, but was obviously more concerned with her health than cursing his brother, for now at least, as he bent down to her level and looked at her critically. "This can't go on." He murmured softly to her.

She shook her head. "It wont. This is the end of it. I'll throw out all the liquor tonight, and convince him to stay home for a while."

His eyes blazed in response. "You can't stay alone with him, what if he hurts you again?"

"The Ron I know wouldn't do anything to me, it was just the alcohol."

"Hermione-"

"Like I said last week," She cut across sharply, "this is between the pair of us."

He heaved a heavy sigh but seemed to give in, giving her a light hug before standing. "I'll see you at the Burrow in a bit."

.

She stared resolutely at the floor, not wanting to look at Bill, but like a moth to a flame, she found herself drawn to him, unable to resist. His body was tense, his expression indecipherable and his eyes intense. Time seemed to halt as they stared at one another; sapphire into chocolate, searching into defensive, and always, always, loving into loving. She needed to do something, whether it be run away, break down and confess her guilt, or move to kiss his soft lips and find comfort in the safety of his body. But she was too raw, in too much pain to bear her heart to him once more, to seek the intimacy that she had shied from since her heart had been ripped apart fourteen years ago. So instead, her voice barely a whisper, she murmured, "You'd do anything for your family. You _did_ do anything, and everything, for your family. Now it's time for you to let me do the same." He visibly recoiled, as if the memory of his choice those years prior had scalded him, before, lips parted, breathing heavily, he stepped towards her as if to kiss her. She was reminded so achingly of the first time he had worn that look, when she had truly started to fall for him, and wanted nothing more than to run to him and embrace him until the pain in his eyes faded.

But her husband chose this moment to reappear, and, throwing a dark look in the direction of the brother he had not trusted since before he and his wife even dated, leant to help Hermione off the floor. He kissed her softly and gave a weak smile before leading her to the floo. She didn't look at Bill again.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N** Me again! No massively huge note from me though; just a quick apology for the constantly changing format- my computer refuses to be happy sticking with one- and my usual thanks to everyone who's read, fave, followed and reviewed! kaycross; I'd like to think I would either, but bless her, I've put 'Mione through quite a lot! Crossy; I hope I continue to keep you interested, and I'm glad you understand where I'm coming fro with Ron :) crowskisses; yayy, glad you like it :D bookworm; your Oliver/Hermione story is on the way, I love his accent too but it's being a bugger to write hehe. And do not fear, there way be hope for George yet... Or not... Spoilers! ;)

Please continue to enjoy, and keep being awesome :)

 **Chapter 6**

Ron seemed to make a genuine effort over the next week; he helped Hermione to throw out the liquor bottles in their house, spent copious of times with the family, and lavished his wife with words of adoration and love, seemingly putting his own grief to the back of his mind. She, for her part, continued telling herself to be strong, regarding the children's return to school in a few days with a mixture of sadness, apprehension and, to her shame, relief. Though she wished she could hold Rose and Hugo forever, dry their tears every night and comfort them when they dwelt too much on the pain, she knew logically that they had to go back to Hogwarts, that life had to continue in this new, strange world. And Merlin, would it feel good to collapse, after a month of holding herself upright and keeping her eyes dry in the aftermath of the funeral.

The others seemed to be adapting somewhat as well; James, Albus and Lily had moved back into the Potter house, where Teddy, now twenty and training to be a Healer (a role she was sure his late father would have whole-heartedly approved of), was looking after them, with frequent assistance from Victoire, who having just a few months ago graduated from Hogwarts, had put off finding a job in lieu of supporting everyone, and so had a lot of time to help the youngsters. Teddy had always been like a big brother to the family, and had wasted no time in leaving his own flat to support his surrogate family, and receive their support in return, and his girlfriend of nearly two years, still as sweet as she had been at only four years old, hadn't batted an eyelash at putting her own life on hold for him and the children.

The other Weasleys were also slowly but surely learning to live with the loss. Bill and Fleur had returned to Shell Cottage (which, Hermione had wryly noted a few years earlier, had been returned to its original décor, from before she and Bill had redesigned it) and returned to work, Charlie staying with them there for a while longer before he left again for Romania. George and Angelina had also gone back to their flat above the shop, and last she had heard were fully engrossed in decorating the nursery for the arrival of their little boy, due in just four weeks. Percy had taken longer to leave his childhood home, and Hermione could sympathise a little with the guilt he must feel, knowing that he still blamed himself for Fred's death, but through Audrey's gentle coaxing, they had moved back into their London town house. In an unusual move for him, he had, perhaps for the first time ever, taken time off work to help in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in support of his brother.

As Hermione assisted Molly in the Burrow kitchen for the still-traditional Weasley Sunday dinner, she reflected on how brave all of the family had been, and returned her mother-in-law's smile with a tight hug. Even the matriarch, despite losing yet another two children, as she most definitely considered her late son-in-law one of her own, had pulled herself together in the best way she could. Most of the time she seemed to be cooking nowadays, sending countless parcels of food to each of the families, and popping in sporadically to clean or fuss over her large family.

The person who seemed to be struggling most was, oddly, the usually calm and collected Arthur. She had not seen him do anything other than eat, sleep and work on the Ford Anglia in his shed since the funeral; he no longer even came out to comfort his wife when she was alone in the house and burst into tears, and instead the late Fred Weasley's portrait had to do his best, muttering soothing words and attempting to make his mother laugh, even as inky tears ran down his own face. The first time that truly made Hermione honestly and deeply concerned for Arthur was when Petunia Dursley asked to visit, bringing her son Dudley with and staying for the Sunday dinner with them after offering their condolences. Mr Weasley did not once question them about the bizarre ways of Muggles, staring as he usually did into his food, as if the mashed potatoes held the answer to life itself. When she joked about this, quipping that it was 42, he merely nodded in a dejected way, making her heart ache.

After the meal, he predictably returned to his shed, and after she gave Bill a short nod in his direction, he followed after him as Petunia, Dudley, Molly, herself and Ron moved to the living room. "It's such a nice surprise to see you, Mrs Dursley, Dudley."  
The tight-lipped woman nodded slightly. "Thank you for having us. My husband... Well, he doesn't entirely understand what Dudders and I are going through."  
Hermione bit back a snort at the nickname, Ron made no effort to but hid it behind a cough, and Molly merely smiled sadly. "Of course; Lily was your sister, wasn't she?"  
Petunia nodded as she rested a hand on 'Dudders' arm. "Yes. We fell out when we were younger. We used to be so close..." Her eyes suddenly became misty. "And I was always horrible to Harry. Jealous, I suppose." Hermione seriously doubted that she had never spoken so honestly, if she had ever even admitted these things to herself. "I wish... Well." She gave a haughty sniff. "The past is in the past."  
The large blob beside her suddenly spoke. "I'm glad we met up after the kids were born." Dudley's pudgy face twisted into a semblance of a smile. "I'm glad he could forgive me, even a bit, for how horrid I was as a kid. Did you know he saved my life?" The last was directed at Hermione and Ron, and they nodded in unison, before the room fell once more into silence.

"Vernon didn't approve of us keeping contact with him." Petunia said suddenly, with more than a hint of bitterness in her voice. "But I'm glad I didn't listen to him, or else he would've died without... Well, his only memories of us would have been unpleasant."  
"You're always welcome here." Molly reassured. "Family needs to be together in times like these, even the most unusual of families."  
Petunia gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Of course. I'm dreadfully sorry for your loss too, Ginevra was a wonderful woman. How is the rest of your family?" They wheedled away a few minutes with chatting idly before the two Muggles left, thanking Molly for her hospitality once more.

"Well that was bloody weird." Ron remarked after Molly had returned from side-along apparating the pair.  
"Language Ronald." His mother scolded, though she too looked bemused. The pair of them returned to the enlarged outdoor table to continue talking to the Weasleys that had remained, but Hermione remained in the yard, looking with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity at the shed; to her knowledge Bill had been in there with his father for roughly twenty minutes. Had he had any success?

She slowly ambled over, intent on simply popping her head in to gauge the situation, but when she did so she halted. Bill was stood against a wall, arms crossed, voice soothing and eyes on his father, who was bent over the open bonnet of the Ford; the poor old car had finally had enough of the Forbidden Forest and chugged to a sad halt outside of Hagrid's Hut and he, upon noticing it, immediately returned it to its owner to be resurrected. But either he wasn't having much luck with the vehicle, or the damage had been much worse than Hermione had imagined, for it didn't even look fit for scrap parts, let alone close to running again.

Bill's tone, as he tried to convince his father to return to the house, became progressively more earnest, and in a split second the whole scene changed. "NO!" Arthur roared, blindly turning and throwing the spanner in his hand, not caring about the direction. "I don't WANT to go back inside! Ginny is NOT. DEAD!" His yelling had muffled the sounds of the other two's gasps of shock, as the metal tool he had tossed flew straight at Bill, scraping across the cheek and leaving a deep gash that immediately started to drip crimson blood. Mr Weasley's eyes finally found his son, and his mouth opened in a silent scream of horror as he dropped to his knees and started sobbing. Although Hermione instinctively went to her ex-love to heal him, he in turn went to his father, sitting in front of him and pulling him into a tight embrace as he rocked him back and forth. "I'm so sorry." Arthur wailed as Bill made shushing noises. "I'm so sorry Bill. I love you, I love you all so much. My little girl, my little girl is _dead._ " He was weeping onto his eldest child's shoulder unabashedly and seemingly without control, and without knowing what else to do as she looked at the scene and the blood still dripping from the other man's face, Hermione ran to fetch Molly.

Upon seeing her expression, the woman followed her without question, gasping in horror when she reached the old shed and saw her eldest son's face covered in blood. "Bill, what-" He cut her off with a quick shake of his head and indicated to his sobbing father, to which his mother fell to their side and took his place comforting Arthur. "It's okay, darling." She soothed gently, rocking him back and forth as if he was a small child, muttering softly as he carried on moaning over the loss of his only daughter.

Mr Weasley eventually released the tight grip he had on his son and collapsed against his wife, allowing Bill to stand and leave with Hermione, giving the elder couple a moments privacy. They walked to stand near the orchard, still just out of view of the Burrow, when she halted him with a hand on his arm. "Come here." She murmured, turning him to face her and pointing her wand at his face, quickly healing the cut across his cheek.  
"Thanks."  
She tilted her head to the side, absently running her thumb along the pink line that was the only mark remaining, and resolutely telling herself that she was doing so to check her work, _not_ just so she could feel his warm skin. "Are you okay?" She asked after a moment, and both knew she wasn't just referring to his now-healed flesh.  
He gave a small shrug as he nodded. "I think he just needed someone to lash out at. It's so difficult to accept what's happened, when it finally clicked he probably just needed a way to get some emotion out. Better me than someone else, though. I mean, if it scars, you won't be able to tell with all these." He attempted to make his voice sound humorous as he indicated to his scarred face, but she simply shook her head and traced the largest of Greyback's marks. "Are _you_ okay?" He asked lowly, and the reaction his deep voice had on her made her drop her hand and step back.  
"I'm fine."

He took a step forward, forcing her to take another back, and continued to do so until her back hit a tree trunk. "Bill, stop." She whispered as he pressed his body closer, so that she could feel the heat radiating from him, her ragged breath betraying her pleading words. She had long ago decided to avoid being alone with him for this exact reason; she had no desire to cheat on her husband. But Merlin, did it feel good to have him so near to her.  
He rested his hands on either side of her and learnt forward, bending down so his lips were beside her ear, his hot breath brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. "I don't think you want me to." He murmured, still not touching her but merely teasing. She closed her eyes and attempted to control herself, but couldn't help a low moan escaping her lips when he softly said, "Thank you for healing me," before closing his mouth in a feather-light kiss against the delicate skin behind her ear.  
"Bill..." She repeated, not sure if she was begging him to continue or halt his ministrations, pull him closer of push him away  
He brushed her wild hair behind her shoulder, giving him better access to the long column of her neck, before lightly kissing along the skin there. "I don't believe that you're okay." He said against her skin, before giving something akin to a quiet groan. "Hermione..." He moved slowly back up, his nose rubbing against her jawline slightly, before meeting her eyes, lips only an inch apart. His eyes were blazing passionately as his chest heaved while he panted slightly, and her neck, previously burning where he had touched, now felt icy in the winter air. "Do you have any idea," he practically growled, sending another jolt of desire through her body, "how much I wanted to hex Ron for what he did to you?"

The sound of her husband's name snapped her out of her lust-filled haze, and she pressed her hands against his chest, pressing lightly to stop him coming any closer. "He just needed someone to lash out at, like your dad." She reasoned, but his expression remained dark, and she could feel his heart beating quickly against her palms.  
"That's no excuse." He hissed, his eyes furious but full of desire, as if he was ready to devour her right there in the Burrow's orchard. Heat pooled through her veins as she recalled that he had done just that once, and her already throbbing womanhood seemed almost ready to explode.  
"Bill, you need to move." She gasped, completely unconvincingly as she was sure her eyes reflected the arousal she so desperately wanted to satiate.  
"He got drunk again." Bill continued, moving his body even closer.  
"It was a horrible day." She tried as an excuse.  
"He _hit_ you." He pressed his body flush against hers, so she could feel that he was just as aroused as she was.  
"It was the drink." She was once again breathless, his mouth so close that she could almost taste the spearmint toothpaste he used.  
"He _blamed_ you for their death. He-"

Bill cut himself off mid-sentence when she dropped her eyes, unable to look at him, unable to allow him to see the guilt that flashed through them. Stepping back, he looked at her in pure shock, hands dropping to his sides and mouth agape, all thoughts of arousal gone as his face radiated nothing but horror. "Oh sweet Merlin, that's it." He said, his voice clearly showing his stunned demeanour. "The other day, I _knew_ there was something you weren't telling me. You believe him, don't you? You actually blame yourself for Harry and Ginny!" She lowered her head and made to walk away, but he caught her once more, cupping her face in both hands and resting their foreheads together, noses grazing, his eyes looking imploringly into hers, begging almost. "Hermione..." Her name was no more than a gust of soft air from his mouth. "You can't blame yourself for it, it wasn't your fault." His slightly rough fingertips were stroking her velvety skin, the smell that was naturally Bill, a mixture of mint, soap and sheer manliness, mixed with the scent of the wintry orchard was overwhelming her, and coupled with the pleading timbre of his voice, she felt close to melting on the spot.

Her eyes were still cast down, as she whispered, "I _told_ them to go Bill. I practically shoved them out of the door." She confessed, shame colouring her tone.  
"Look at me 'Mione." He asked, and when she finally did, he was looking at her with tender sincerity. "There was no way you could've known." He assured, and even through the guilt and pain she was feeling, she was reminded of their first kiss, when he had been reassuring her that the casualties of the war were not her fault. If his face was to be believed, he was also remembering the same thing. She knew she should push him away, knew that if she didn't he would kiss her, and Merlin help her she would kiss him back, and it would be treacherously beautiful. But she couldn't bring herself to. "You can't blame yourself. It was-"

"Hermione?" Ron's voice broke through the night, and her head snapped to the side, releasing it from Bill's grasp as she side-stepped and moved towards where her husband's voice had sounded from.  
"There's nothing you can say, Bill. Ron knows it's my fault, and I know it is too." She murmured when she was a few feet away.  
He opened his mouth to respond, but his younger brother had come in sight of them, and quickly moved to wrap his arm around his wife. "Everything okay there Bill?" He asked coldly, receiving only a sharp head jerk in reply, as he was still unconsciously staring at Hermione with undisguised loving concern. "The kids are ready to head off, shall we go?" Ron said to her, and she smiled and nodded, not looking back at Bill as they walked away, leaving him standing alone by the trees, anxious, with his heart aching for the woman. "What did he want?" Ron asked when they were out of earshot, but she merely gave a small shake of her head.  
"Nothing important."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N** Surprise update! I was going to do one every Sunday, but I'm close to finishing the story now and it's kinda long, so rather than making you wait half a year for the ending, I'll be trying to do two updates a week. Unfortunately, my beta reader (the aforementioned awesome mother :D) is out of action at the moment, so please excuse any typos etc.

As always, thanks to my lovely reviewers, Crossy and bookworm, who have stuck with me and reviewed on everything! You guys are the best :) bookworm, your one-shot will (hopefully) be up with the next chapter on Sunday, and Crossy, you're definitely next in line for a dedicated story! (Oh, and Ron has had his suspicions, but they're pretty unfounded, though with the drink he obviously believes she's a total *****)

 **WARNING** : This chapter contains scenes of abuse. If you, or anyone you know, suffers from domestic abuse, or abuse of any kind, there are people out there that can help. I am in no way condoning what happens here, but unfortunately it does happen in the world. You aren't alone though.

 **Chapter 7**

A few days later, though it felt like only a few minutes to her, she, Ron, Rose and Hugo were in their front room, awaiting the arrival of the Potters, Weasleys and Teddy. It was the day that the youngsters were due to return to school, and the whole family had agreed to come as a sign of solidarity before they flooed straight to Headmistress McGonagall's office. Her old Head of House had allowed the children an extra month off of school to deal with their loss, and had even offered to give them the rest of the year, and return to repeat their first, third and fifth years starting in September, but all five had declined, not wanting to move years or draw any more attention to themselves. So, midway through February, they were heading back to the castle, and if her son and daughter's faces were anything to go by, feeling a mixture of nerves and resignation. They were both sat on the sofa, Rose's arm wrapped around Hugo, staring into the fireplace as if through will alone they could make it burst into green flames.

Ron had just begun to pace impatiently when people started to apparate and floo over, beginning with George and Angelina tumbling out of the floo and finishing with Molly and Arthur arriving with a pop outside, bearing piles of sweets and chocolates for their five grandchildren. They split off into small groups, Teddy speaking soothingly to the Albus and James, Victoire and Charlie holding Lily and Hugo tightly to them and Rose immediately running to her favourite Uncle; Bill. When they had made their rounds of the room, hugging their Uncles, Aunts and Grandparents, the only remaining family for the Potters now, they came to a halt in front of the fireplace, looking uncertainly towards the pot of floo powder.

Hermione knelt down in front of them, taking the two youngest's hands in her own, and giving them a reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay, guys." She said confidently. "I've spoken to Professor McGonagall, and there's going to be a small memorial service for the students when you get back, but she's already asked the school to give you some space. All of your teachers have offered to give you some extra time one-on-one if you want to catch up too, and you're all excused from end of year exams." She smiled slightly at James. "She's also asked me to tell you that you can take your O. later on if you don't feel up to them, but obviously, you don't have to decide now."  
The teenager nodded slightly. "Thanks Aunt 'Mione."  
"Try not to worry too much." She murmured, kissing Lily's cheek gently. "If you need anything at all, _anything_ , the Headmistress has also said that you can use her floo to come home any time you want to. Or you can send us an owl and we'll be right there, quicker than you can say Happy Hippogriffs. You're not alone, none of you are. We're here for you, all of us are."

Four of them nodded thankfully, but Albus still looked concerned. "They're all going to be talking about us." He whispered uncomfortably.  
"I guess we'll know how dad felt when he was at school." James joked weakly.  
They all shared a humourless chuckle, before Hermione pulled them all into a tight group hug, before saying, "Just stick together, guys. You know you can get through this." She stood, grinning down at them all. "Besides, if anyone gives you any trouble, they'll have all of us to worry about." She gestured around the room, at the whole Weasley clan, who were all smiling reassuringly, and the mass of people seemed to comfort the five, as they shuffled forward slightly.

"Now just remember to behave yourselves." Molly said mock-sternly.  
"Study hard." Percy added.  
"Make sure you have fun." His wife Audrey elbowed her husband lightly in the ribs.  
"Give the teachers hell." George quipped.  
Angelina frowned. "But not _too_ much hell."  
"Be sure to write." Arthur gave them one last hug.  
"And give Hagrid our love." Charlie said, as he'd always had a soft spot for the gameskeeper.  
"Neville too." Dominique and Louis chimed.  
"Keep me updated about that Jared guy." Victoire added with a wink to Rose.  
"Jared guy?!" Ron exclaimed. "What Jared guy?!" Rose flushed scarlet while the half-French woman giggled slightly.  
"Just do your best, and remember we're here for you." Teddy said with one last hug.  
"Who's Jared?!"

Bill hugged Rose tightly, and Hermione heard him whisper, "I don't know who this guy is, but if he hurts you, he's got me to answer to." He winked at her, before standing and saying to the group as a whole; "Don't hesitate to ask for anything, to floo to any of our places or send an owl."  
"Rosie, what is going on with this Jared guy?!"  
Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, before grinning at the others. "If you want, we can try and meet up with you on your next Hogsmeade visit." They all nodded enthusiastically, and holding them all close once more she murmured, "I love you all so much. We all do."  
The fives eyes were damp as they looked around at their huge family, and they choked out thanks, even as Ron continued to demand about 'this Jared guy' and Molly cried softly onto Arthur's shoulder. They stepped back through the floo with one last wave, calling out Hogwarts as they did, and were gone in a flash of green, leaving the others standing somewhat awkwardly in Hermione's front room.

They started to drift away in pairs and threes, George holding Angelina's arm gently as she muttered irritatedly about her backache, Molly returning to the Burrow with Victoire, as Arthur, Percy and Audrey returned to work and Teddy returned to his training, until only the two eldest Weasley children, Ron and Hermione remained. Bill muttered quietly to Charlie, asking him to take Dominique and Louis back to Shell Cottage, as Fleur had not come to see the others off, whilst Ron wandered through to the kitchen, still grouching about the possibility of Rose having an interest in a guy. This left Bill and Hermione alone together for the first time since their talk the other  
day, and she shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, before beginning to move to the door herself.

"Hermione," he called softly, halting her progress, "you can't avoid me forever. We need to talk about-"  
"There's nothing to talk about." She cut across sharply. It was true that she had been ignoring his owls, and swiftly walking in the other direction when she saw him, for she couldn't bear to have him beg her to believe her innocence in her friends deaths again. But she also couldn't stand the idea of convincing him otherwise, because surely he would hate her once he realised that his sister's blood was on her hands.  
"Of course there is." He strode over to her, touching her arm lightly. "You can't keep on believing that-"  
"There's nothing you can say, Bill."  
He frowned at her short tone, but kept his own gentle, reassuringly soft, though with undeniable pain. "So what, you're going to avoid me forever?" She shook her head. "Just whenever I try to convince you that you're mad for blaming yourself?"

She was saved answering by Ron re-entering and kissing her lightly. "Still here Bill?" He asked, not even attempting to feign nonchalance.  
"He was just going." She cut in quickly. "Come on, we have to get back to work." She inwardly winced at Bill's hurt look, but steeled her resolve and walked past him, stifling a shudder of pure need when his distinct scent and warm body heat washed over her.  
"Yeah, you're right." Ron said swiftly, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulder possessively, making Bill's eyes flash slightly and her sigh in exasperation. "Let's apparate, we're running low on floo powder." She nodded and they moved to the door, Ron looking pointedly at his brother until, looking defeated, he followed them out of the house. As Hermione replaced the wards over their home, the two men faced each other, chilliness in their eyes. "Well, I guess we'll see you soon then Bill." The younger said lightly. "Not too soon though! I'm sure my _wife_ and I are going to enjoy having the house to ourselves again." Neither missed the ownership implied in his last statement, but still emotionally drained from seeing the children off and her near-miss with Bill, she slumped her shoulders and let it go.

"See you around." She mumbled to the older man as her husband grabbed her arm, ready to apparate them away. She couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes and stared instead at his toned chest, mind reeling slightly as she took in the muscles clearly visible through his sweater, but when his fingers brushed inconspicuously over the back of her hand, her chocolate orbs snapped up to his sapphire ones.  
"Yes, you will see me around." He stated lowly, his expression clearly stating that their earlier conversation was far from over, his intimate tone making Ron clear his throat loudly and call a cheerful goodbye before apparating he and his wife away, leaving Bill looking dark but concerned as he stood on their front porch.

...

It was a week after the kids had gone back to Hogwarts, and the couple were settling back into their normal routine; Hermione would wake early, shower and put on some toast and coffee, shake her husband awake, eat a quick breakfast, shake her husband awake _again_ , dress and prepare herself for the day, before yelling at Ron to _wake up_ , and leaving for work. Ron would usually arrive at the Ministry a good hour after her, as she still liked to be earlier than most, and duck his head into her office to glare at her co-worker and kiss her in a forceful way that was entirely embarrassing in the public setting and starting his own day as an auror. He would drop in on her a few times during the day, sometimes under the pretence of organising some paperwork, sometimes just to, as he put it, 'check on' her, to her irritation, before they met in the canteen for lunch. The afternoon would pass in much the same way as the morning, before they left and went out for dinner, or cooked together in their small kitchen, chatting lightly about their days in the lounge in the evenings, before returning to bed. It was a comfortable life they shared, if a little mundane, and Hermione was, after fourteen years of marriage, many of which were disastrous, used to and grateful for the stability it brought.

Some days were different of course; either could be caught in hours of endless meetings, Ron could be sent on a mission, or Hermione could throw herself into a new law and lose track of time, amongst other things. Such was the case today; she was drafting a new legislation regarding the treatment of accidental magic in under-age wizards and witches raised by Muggles, and when Ron came in to remind her it was time to go home, she merely blinked in response and said she'd be staying late. It was a Tuesday, and so when she returned home at a quarter past midnight, exhausted but satisfied with the work she had completed, she was surprised to find that her husband was still awake, sat on the sofa staring into the flames.

"Ron!" She called in surprise, yawning widely. "I thought you would've gone to bed by now, is everything okay?"  
"You had a letter." He grunted in reply, and she saw the open envelope on the seat next to him, before regarding him with some irritation.  
"You opened my mail?" She frowned, and he finally turned his face to look at her, so she could see his blood-shot eyes and angry expression.  
"I recognised the writing, I thought it might be for both of us." She was confused; it had to have been sent the Muggle way, as owls usually went straight to where the owner was, rather than dropping letters off at their homes, but the only Muggles she was in contact with were her parents. Why would he think they would write to him? And for that matter, since when could he recognise their writing? "Here." He said shortly, thrusting the letter towards her.

As she stepped around the sofa to take it from him, she caught the distinct smell of ale, and her heart dropped when she saw the empty bottles scattered on the floor around him. "Ron..." She murmured quietly, he had been doing so well! "What's happened? Why-"  
"Here." He repeated, jumping up and shoving the envelope into her chest, knocking her back a few steps as he did so. "Read it." He sounded furious.  
She turned the small piece of paper over and dread filled her; on the front was her name and address, written in the neat script of one William Weasley. Hands shaking, she pulled the note out and scanned it quickly, glancing at Ron as she did so. "Let's talk about this tomorrow," she said eventually, "you're not in your right mind.  
His face twisted with fury, and he stepped closer, leaning over her petite form menacingly. "Read it." He growled. "Out loud."  
"Ron, you're drunk, I'm not-"  
"NOW!"

She took a deep breath, trying not to gag on the vile smell emanating from him and begging the fear she felt not to show in her eyes. Biting her lip, she began;

"Hermione,

You're still avoiding my owls, so I thought I'd try the Muggle way. We need to talk, 'Mione, soon; you know we do. I can't let you carry on like this, it's killing me knowing how guilty you feel, please let me help you. What happened wasn't your fault. Please get in touch; I miss you.

Always yours,

Bill."

She swallowed thickly, and braved meeting her husband's eyes; he looked murderous. What had happened to the sweet, albeit dim, boy she had met as a child? Or the man who had been so desperate to win her love, who had been so excited when she finally relented and agreed to a date? The person before her was neither of those; he looked like a monster, crazed enough with rage and alcohol to turn his wand on her and curse her to madness... Or death.

"Ron-"  
"What is he talking about?"  
"Ron, can we talk about this tomorrow, you're drunk, you-"  
"What," Ron stepped even closer, his eyes wide and deranged in his inebriated state, "is he talking about?"  
She tried to move away but he grabbed her wrists easily in one hand, gripping tight enough to bruise and making her cry out in pain. "Ow! Ron, you're hurting me!"  
He ignored her pleas and grabbed the top of her hair tightly, yanking her head up so her tear-filled eyes met his and making her wince again. "What's going on between you and Bill?" He hissed, spraying her face with spit and making her choke as his ale-laced breath permeated her senses. "Have you been fucking him behind my back?" She tried to shake her head, her teeth still gritted in pain, but his grip was too tight, so she resorted to whimpering pathetically. "Is that what you have to feel guilty about, huh? Is that why you've been sneaking around with him? ANSWER ME!"

With his last shout he threw her from him, and she hit her head hard an the edge of the fireplace, immediately feeling blood gushing from the wound as her head swam dizzily. "I haven't been sneaking around with anyone," she managed to whisper eventually, "and I haven't been sleeping with your brother." She managed to pull herself up using the wall as a support, and faced him only to find his look darken.  
"I don't believe you." He snapped. "You're lying."  
"I'm not lying, Bill and I-"  
"DON'T SAY HIS NAME!" He roared, and the next thing she knew she was on the floor again, clutching her nose as blood pooled from it, sure that his fist had broken it. "Tell me the truth!" He demanded with a swift round of kicks to her chest, looking down at her with disgust in his eyes.  
"I am! There's nothing going on!"  
"Liar!" He yelled again, stomping down on her free wrist with his booted foot, and making her scream in pain as the delicate bones snapped under the force.  
"I'm not a liar!" Her voice was now thick with blood, but the shock of being so ruthlessly beaten by her husband had faded slightly, and she was ready.

The next time she heard his infuriated snarl and saw his leg move in preparation to kick her once more, she rolled with war-honed instincts, pulling her wand out with her uninjured hand and screaming out, "Protego!" He was thrown backwards by the force of her spell, his back hitting the opposite wall with a loud bang, making him bellow with new ferocity. She steeled herself as he began to lurch towards her, not wanting to hex him but unwilling to endure more of his abuse, but she was saved the choice of whether to hurt or be hurt by the man she was supposed to love. After just a couple of steps forward, he tripped over his own feet in his drunken state, and collapsed to the floor, swearing under his breath as he lay sprawled out. She wandered over, looking pitifully at his form but making no move to help him, and simply watched him struggle to get up before giving up and staring at the ceiling.

"You want to hear the truth?" She started quietly. "The truth is that you're drunk, _again_ , and I've had enough of this shit. I'm done. We're over. I really hope you get the help you need, Ron, and I hope you get better, but it's not my job to look after you. I can't take any more of this, and I shouldn't have to. I've tried, I really have, but enough is enough. Goodbye."  
She turned on the spot and had almost reached the door when he spoke up, his voice a deathly monotone. "You can't leave, I wont let you. I told you I'd do anything to keep you, I meant it."  
"There's nothing you can do."  
He was still not looking at her, and his tone was still flat, emotionless, as she walked away from him. "I still love you, even though it's your fault they died."

She didn't say anything in reply, but left the house, Crookshanks hugging tight to her leg, and her cradling her broken wrist and breathing in the night air deeply, wondering where she would go. She knew she needed to be alone, and was about to resign herself to finding a hotel that would still be open, when the idea clicked in her mind. Turning on the spot and praying that she could still apparate within her old wards, she focussed as hard as possible on the house she hadn't seen for fourteen long years, sighing in relief when the familiar smells of the forest and nearby sea surrounded her. She opened her eyes and managed a small smile at her old house, the small cottage that held so many memories for her and Bill, before unlocking the final enchantments around her front door and strolling inside.

She had never gotten around to selling the place, though she hadn't visited for fear that remembering everything that happened here would make her question her resolve to make a marriage with Ron work. Now, as she settled on the sofa and lit the fire, pointing her wand at herself and healing her various injuries, she wished she had come sooner, being wed to Ron be damned. When she had cleared the blood from her face and fixed her bones, she looked around her, somewhat surprised when she found that nothing had changed in the slightest. Of course, logically she knew this was to be expected, as no-one had been here and she had put up stasis charms when she moved out, but so much had changed in her life that she had half expected to find everything broken and covered in dust. She ran her hand over the one thing that had changed; the bookcases lining the walls were now empty, with only one book remaining in the familiar lounge. She settled into her favourite armchair near where the book lay, and opened the cover sadly. The picture of the green bug met her as the tears began streaming down her face, and she flicked through the copy of The Very Hungry Caterpillar she had bought Bill years ago slowly, smiling grimly as she remembered reading it with Victoire on the beach at Shell Cottage.

She placed it down on a side table and wandered over to a nearby dresser, where her pensieve, a gift from Harry, lay. Swirling the memories round with the tip of her finger, she watched Bill's face drift in and out of the silvery liquid; here he was laughing as he was dressed in some bright pink fairy wings at a store, here his bare body was pressed against hers as he whispered how much he loved her, here he was handing her the rose ring and promising they would be a family, that he would make her happy. But as she began crying in earnest, they changed again, making her sob harder; Bill crying as Ginny berated him for his treatment of the red-head's best friend, the look of anguish on his face when she told him they couldn't be together, the sound of desperation as he called after her after James's birth, after Fleur had returned.

Other people swam in and out of the images; Ron, her mother, Harry and Ginny... But no Rose, and no Hugo, for she had left the pensieve here, in this place of memories, when she had decided to lie and name Ron the father of her child and move in with him, prior to her daughter's birth. She gave a small gasp as scenes of she and Bill making love faded in and out of the basin; which time was it that they had conceived? Turning away as his face met hers, his deep eyes seeming to see through her even in her memories, she once more contemplated how different everything was, yet how similar too. Even as he drew closer to fifty, Bill was still as handsome as ever. due to the extended lives of those with magic, the only thing betraying that he'd aged at all being the frown lines that had been etched onto his face and the sadness that lurked in his eyes. But of course, everything had changed for him too. Their lives had turned sour long before Harry and Ginny had died. But she was determined that even though she may never be with the man she truly loved, she wouldn't suffer to be married to his abusive brother any longer. She was going to take control once more, she would be free.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N** This chapter will undoubtedly piss a lot of you off, so I'm sorry. However, there will be some happy smut scenes in a few chapters, so stick with me, pleeeeease! I'll be doing replies to comments in the next chapter, because it's past midnight and my brain no work, hehe. Thanks though, guys, and if you have a moment please follow the trend of the awesome people that have been reviewing and leave me a little note!

Also, even if you hate the chapter, please don't flame. I've nothing against constructive criticism, in fact I appreciate it, but comments and personal messages saying that I'm shit as a person and a writer are _not_ appreciated. I'm obviously not condoning _anything_ bad that happens in this story, but it's a _story_. I'm not trying to give lessons on how to live your life. And lets be honest, flames are a waste of everyones time. And I'm not forcing you to read this. So... Yeah. Just don't, please.

 **PLEASE READ ME!** Bookworm4life0812 has made an awesome fan-video (I'm so chuffed :D) for My Little Girl, please check it out. The link should be on my profile. 

**Chapter 8**

Hermione stayed at her cottage on Wednesday, splitting her time between watching the months of her life she had spent with Bill in her pensieve and curling up on the sofa with an old jumper of his that she'd kept; somehow, even after all the years, it still smelt faintly of him. She had floo called Stewart to ask him to cover for her at work, and after seeing all she had done the previous night, he was all too happy to oblige. 

But as night grew closer, she knew that she would have to return to the house she shared with Ron, to pick up some clothes and other supplies, and to ensure that he remembered her coldly spoken words the previous night. She was still nervous, despite knowing it was essential she go, and though she had healed her broken bones she left the bruises on her wrist and her twin black eyes alone, not bothering with a glamour so he was sure to see what he had done. Her heart was thumping in her chest as she left her sanctuary to apparate to the place she had called home for over a decade and her old mantra returned to her; _I am strong. I am strong._ Her breathing hitching slightly in her throat, she spun on the spot, swallowing heavily as the familiar front porch met her. She knew that Ron would probably be there, knew that she needed to speak to him, but couldn't help but wish that the house was, for whatever reason, empty. 

Gathering her Gryffindor courage, she strode to the door and pushed it open, and to her dread heard her husband's voice asking if it was her. She straightened her back, mentally preparing herself for whatever would come and grasping her wand in her hand tightly, only to have any resolve of fight or flight abandon her as more voices added the first. "Mum!" Her mouth dropped open and she fell to her knees as her son and daughter ran into the front hall, pulling them into a tight embrace.  
"What-"  
But she never got to finish her question, as two black haired boys and a red-headed girl threw themselves at her, joining in the hug as they called, "Aunt 'Mione!" The Potter children were grasping her as tightly as her own, and it seemed that every inch of her was surrounded by the five youngsters, who had somehow managed to all bury their heads on her chest, yet all she could do was splutter in confusion.

"Are you okay?" James asked, concern lacing his tone.  
"Of course I am!" She exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "Are _you_ guys okay?"  
Various noises of affirmation met her, before Rose finally lifted her face, tears filling her eyes. "Dad said that you were missing! He said you could be hurt and-" Her face dropped when she wiped the moisture from her face and saw the bruises either side of her mother's nose. "What happened?!"  
The other four quickly looked too, and gave simultaneous sounds of horror at her coloured face, but she brushed them off. Not covering up her marks was meant to snap some sense into Ron, but seeing the worry on the children's face made guilt course through her heart, and she found herself making some lame excuse about tripping over on the way back from work. "But dad said you weren't at home." Hugo asked in a confused way. "He said you've been missing since yesterday!"

 _Damn Ron. Damn him to hell._ Her thoughts were thoroughly taken up with cursing her husband in the name of Merlin, Morgana and Mordred, but she managed to force a smile. "Dad and I just missed each other today, then I didn't want him to worry so sorted myself out before coming home." More guilt penetrated her heart ruthlessly at having to lie to them all, especially as Albus's eyes- so like Harry's- were boring into hers, but how could she tell them the truth about their uncle, godfather and dad?  
Said man appeared now, and as the kids parted pulled her into a fierce kiss. "'Mione! I've been so worried about you!"  
Rage bubbled through her as she tasted the alcohol on his breath, but she swallowed her disgust and pulled away, returning to comforting her own and the Potter children. "Hey," she said soothingly, "don't worry, I'm fine."  
"But where were you?" Lily asked, her young face screwed up in confusion.  
She scanned her mind, looking for a decent excuse, before smiling at them openly. "I went to go see Luna, dad probably just forgot." Ron looked furious and the children looked unconvinced, but she didn't give them a chance to answer as she stood and grabbed her husband's hand. "Can I talk to you for a moment, _dear_?" She dragged him through to the kitchen, before rounding on him with pure rage in her expression. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, calling the kids back from school?!" She demanded.

His face was emotionless. "I told you I'd do anything to keep you. I meant it."  
She gave a laugh of pure disbelief. "So you're using our _children_ against me?!"  
For the first time, he showed genuine emotion; pure happiness. "You'll never upset them." He said lightly. "And if you leave, I'll tell them you've been cheating on me for years and lying that I'm their dad. They'll never forgive you." She felt she vaguely resembled a fish as her mouth gaped, opening and closing in absolute shock, and he merely smiled widely. "We're together, 'Mione, we were always meant to me and we always will be. You'll always be mine."  
"They won't believe you."  
To her absolute infuriation, he gave a small laugh. "Everyone else will; my family, our families, the whole wizarding world. Besides," he tilted his head to one side and smiled at her, "would you really put our children in the middle of our disagreements, so soon after losing their aunt and uncle?"  
"Of course not!" She exclaimed, and her blood chilled when his grin grew wider.  
"Well, I would."

She shook her head, unable to even comprehend that he would do such a thing, and uttered a phrase that she was well and truly tired of. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying."  
His face fell slightly. "You know I don't want to hurt you, 'Mione, I _love_ you!"  
"No, whatever this is, it's not love." She replied, shaking her head and backing away from him.  
He followed her, and when she was backed into a corner, grabbed her neck to stop the movement, looking with seeming sincerity at her. She couldn't help but wince at his tight grip. "It _is_ love, I've loved you for years!"  
"Ron, let me go, you're hurting me!"  
"I'd never hurt you, darling!"  
"Where the hell do you think I got these then?!" She exclaimed, pointing at her face and arm.  
He quickly dropped her and moved away to get another drink, looking at her curiously out of the corner of his eye. "So, you've finally got the guts to confront me?"  
She paled dramatically. "What?" She whispered. "What do you mean?"  
"' _I don't remember anything, I woke up in Shell Cottage_ '." He replied mockingly.  
Her jaw almost broke with how open her mouth was, disbelief fuelling it. "You-"  
"All you need to do, Hermione, is stop making me angry! This whole thing with Bill, on top of everything else, just stressed me out. I obviously didn't _want_ to hurt you, but you're so beautiful, you can't blame me for being suspicious. It's a compliment, really. Just stay away from people I don't want you to see, and we can go back to a happy marriage!"

She felt like she lived as an aquatic being again, and could only utter; " _What_?!"  
"It's not much to ask, really."  
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, we've _never_ had a happy marriage. You're a bloody alcoholic, and you've _always_ tried to control me, used my children as _blackmail_ , _beaten_ me... How in _Merlin's name_ do you think things will ever be decent, let alone _happy_ , between us?!"  
"If you don't stay, I'll make sure-"

But she was never to find out what would happen, for at that moment, from the next room she heard the whoosh of flames and Rose's voice called out; "Uncle Bill!"  
Her husbands head was still buried in the cupboard as he attempted to find the bottle of Muggle vodka she had taken with her to her cottage, and she could only hope that he stayed there for a while as she headed off his brother. When she entered the lounge, she found Bill hugging their daughter tightly. "I only just got your owl; have you heard from your mum?" He sounded despairing, terrified, _desperate_.  
"I'm fine." She called loudly as she cast a silencing spell, reassuring the children that everything was okay and sending them upstairs as Bill hugged her tightly. She stayed for a few moments in his embrace, in the darkness, before deciding that she had to face him with her bruises, and face reality. His eyes nearly ruined her; they were filled with concern, pain and above all, love. "You need to leave. Now." She told him, but he merely lit the nearby candles, now resembling a fish as she had before as he gasped at her bruises.

"What the-" Something seemed to click in his mind, and though it was the new moon, his eyes flashed a passionate amber. "He did this." He growled.  
"Go, Bill, please." She practically begged, not knowing what Ron would do if he saw his oldest brother.  
"I'm not leaving you alone with him."  
"If he sees you it'll be worse! He'll bloody hex you!"  
Bill scowled. "Fine. I'll happily take him on." When she sighed he took her hand, though he didn't realise it was her injured hand, and glared when he saw the marks there. "What did he do to you?" He breathed.  
"He was drunk." Bill lowered his lips to the bruised skin and pressed his lips to the injured area, and she almost collapsed. "It looks better than it was."  
"He may be my brother," he began as he raised his head, "but I hate him. I actually do. I can't believe what he's done to you."

"I don't know what's happened to him." She confided in a whisper. "Last night..." Around anyone else she would've felt mortified at the tears that filled her eyes; however she'd always been able to cry in front of Bill. But the ability to collapse emotionally only reminded her of the months in the tent with Harry in the horcrux hunt, the awful moment that she had to remove her parents' memories and wept to Ginny about them, and more than anything, the memory of seeing Fleur walk into George and Angelina's celebratory meal years ago, on the arm of the man she said she loved.  
She gave a tight grimace. "You need to go Bill."  
He scowled. "There is no way-"  
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ron had evidently found a different drink, as he was now glaring at his brother, a clear liquid in his glass.  
Bill glowered hatefully at his youngest brother. "Rose flooed me. She was worried about Hermione, with good reason it would seem."  
He was stood protectively by her side, and this only enraged her husband more. "Get away from her." He growled.  
"Not a chance." He replied with a low rumble of his own.  
"Both of you, stop it." Hermione snapped, placing a hand on Bill's arm to stop him lunging for the other man. "The children are just upstairs!"

This made Bill falter slightly, and he forced his hostile stance to relax slightly to avoid disturbing or upsetting the youngsters. But Ron took this opportunity to jump forward and grab Hermione's hair roughly, dragging her back to his side. "I told you to get away from her." He spat at his brother when he instinctively went to help her.  
She winced as some of her bushy strands separated from her scalp. "Ron, let me go." She attempted to keep her voice steady as she grabbed her wand from her pocket and turned it in her hand, letting it jab into his chest.  
He looked down at the piece of wood with disbelief. "You'd hex me love?"  
"Let me go." She repeated. To her relief he did as she asked, and she stepped away from him until she was stood between the two men, glancing from one to the other. "Bill, you need to go home." She said to the elder, before turning to her husband and hissing, "And Ron, I don't care what you threaten me with, I'm still leaving."  
Bill immediately started protesting, the idea of leaving her alone with the abusive other man completely abhorrent to him, but Ron merely tilted his head and looked at her with curiosity once more. "Why do you want to leave me? You're mine, you love me."  
She shook her head as Bill snorted. "Ron, I'm not going to stay with a man who _beats_ me and uses my children against me. I'm not yours, and I certainly don't love who you've become."  
Now he simply looked confused. "Of course you love me. And I told you, all you need to do is stop making me angry! I don't want to hit you, of _course_ I don't, but you just make me so-"

"Don't you _dare_ imply that it's Hermione's fault you're an abusive bastard!" Bill bellowed.  
"Why the fuck are you still here?!" He yelled back.  
"I'm making sure that you don't _hit_ her again!"  
"It's none of your business! If you don't get the fuck out now I'll curse you so hard-"  
"ENOUGH!" Hermione screamed, and her magic exploded out of her, throwing them both back and pinning them against opposite walls. She met Bill's eyes and he seemed to sag under her piercing gaze, looking pleadingly at her. At the desperate expression on his face she nearly crumbled, but squared her shoulders and didn't let her fierce look falter. "We're leaving." She told him bluntly, and he closed his eyes, seemingly caught between relief at not having to leave her alone and frustration at not being able to hex his brother. Or beat him to a pulp.

But he didn't have a chance to argue or agree with her words, as Ron once more spoke up. "If you leave now, what will Rose and Hugo think?"  
Bill roared in an feral way at his brother to leave the children out of it, but Hermione merely met her husband's eyes steadily, guilt coursing through her in violent waves. "I'll take them with me." She said quietly.  
Bill's breath was ragged as his chest heaved in anger, but between the married couple things were almost deathly quiet. "I thought you didn't want to put them in the middle of this? I thought you didn't want to break up our family, break our children's hearts?" His eyes narrowed cruelly. "Is it not enough that you caused Harry and Ginny's death? Now you want to rip everyone's lives apart again?"  
She flinched. "It wasn't her fucking fault!" Bill yelled, before turning to Hermione; in her shock and horror the unconsciously cast magic keeping them apart had failed, and though initially the elder man had wanted to attack his brother, now his sole concern was removing the tragic grief from his love's eyes. He held her arms lightly, careful to avoid the bruises around her wrist, and looked imploringly at her. "'Mione, it wasn't your fault, you have to believe me. None of this is your fault. What happened was awful, but you're not to blame, there was nothing you could do! There was no way you could've known!"

But she couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bring herself to believe what he was begging her to. Instead, she stared at Ron, with absolute devastation in her expression and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Are you suddenly more important than the children?" He asked her spitefully as she gently ran her fingers over her bruises.  
She shook her head in reply and finally turned her broken form towards Bill. "You have to go." She rasped.  
"No," he gasped, "you can't listen to him!"  
"Mum? Uncle Bill? Dad?" Hugo's young voice called out as he, his sister, and the three Potters wandered down the stairs; evidently when her charm separating the two men had failed, so had her silencing charm, and the kids had heard their voices.  
Ron stayed stoic while Hermione immediately ran to them, as did Bill, and they leant down and gave them fake smiles. "Everything is fine," the man began, "just silly work things."  
"But what-" James began, looking confused.  
"Just the goblins being awkward." Hermione cut him off, giving an attempted grin at the five. "You know how they can be."  
"It's sorted now though," Ron finally spoke up, "so you can go Bill."  
Said man began to open his mouth to protest, but Hermione cut across him. "We'll be going too, kids, I'm sure your dad wants some time alone to work."  
"I don't mind, you really should stay." Ron said with a glare at his wife.

Hermione walked slowly towards him, then spoke in a whisper to him. "I'll bring them back tomorrow."  
"I'm not letting you leave with _him_." He hissed.  
"Bill's going to go home."  
"And will you be coming back with Rose and Hugo?"  
She swallowed thickly. "Yes, but I don't love you Ron. I'll come back for their sake. But you'll have to live with the fact that you are an abusive, violent alcoholic who's married to someone who can't stand being around you, can you do that?"  
He smiled benignly. "Things will get better, love. I'm glad you've realised that the children are the most important thing."  
"And when will _you_ realise that?"  
He laughed as if she'd told a brilliant joke, before kissing her lightly, to her absolute disgust. "I guess you'll be going to your parent's place?"  
"No, they're away."  
He frowned. "Where then? I have a right to know where my son and daughter are going."

She stepped backwards and no longer whispering called, "Bill, you need to go home." He gritted his teeth and glared at Ron, wondering what had occurred in their whispered conversation, but she was in front of him and talking quietly before he had a chance to ask. "I'll be going too, with the children. I'll take them to my old cottage and sort everything out tomorrow, when they're back at Hogwarts."  
"You have to leave him Hermione." He said lowly. "You can't carry on like this!"  
"Trust me, I'll make things okay. I'm strong enough to handle this."  
He frowned, but caught Rose's concerned look and seemed to bite his tongue. "Promise me you'll leave with them, that you won't stay here with Ron."  
"I promise."  
He still looked uncertain, so she took his hand and rubbed her thumb over his palm, giving a small smile. "Meet me tomorrow." He whispered. "We need to talk, _please_."  
"Do you remember the restaurant we went to on our first date?" She asked in a voice that was little louder than a breath.  
"Of course."  
"I'll meet you there at eight." He nodded in agreement before, with one last furious look towards his brother, returning to his house through the floo.

Hermione soon followed his trip to the fireplace with the children, though to a different cottage, and after a few extension charms, quickly had all five settled in their beds. All had seemed charmed by the small home, but nothing could dispel the general feel of unease that was settled around them. The situation between Ron, Bill and herself had, predictably, left them confused and concerned, and even more guilt pulled at her as she hid her pensieve and locked the cupboard it was concealed in, the reality of her lie from years ago hurting her now more than ever. She hated the fact that her daughter didn't know that her favourite uncle was actually her father, hated the fact that her son didn't have the right dad, hated the fact that she'd had to lie for so long. Hated that she was married to an abusive Ron, rather than Bill, the man she loved.

"Mum?" Rose's voice called from the door to the lounge before she sat on the sofa next to her mother. "Albus, James and Lily are all asleep. I think Hugo is too." Hermione wrapped her arms around her daughter and pulled her tight to her chest, stroking her hair soothingly. "What was happening with you all before?" The young girl asked.  
She gave her daughter a small smile. "Nothing, darling. It was stupid."  
"So dad isn't angry with Uncle Bill?"  
"Of course not."  
After a few moments, Rose spoke in a quiet voice, the observant nature she had inherited from Hermione showing more than ever. "Has dad been hurting you mum?"  
Hermione's head snapped to the side as she looked at her. "Of course not Rosie."  
She didn't meet her mother's eyes. "If he is," she took a deep breath, "Hugo and I will understand if you separate."  
Touched by her daughter's selflessness and blinking back tears of love and despair, she gave a watery smile. "Things are fine between dad and I." She lied.  
Rose smiled. "That's good. We've lost so much recently..."  
Hermione kissed her cheek sweetly, telling herself to be strong, for Rose and Hugo's sake. Guilt once more was ripping her to shreds, and this time it was worse; Rose was innocent, had never intended for her to feel bad. All she wanted was a mum and dad. So as she watched her fifteen year old fall asleep in her arms, Hermione resigned herself to a marriage she hated. But she couldn't help but wonder what her meeting with Bill the next day would bring.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N** Hello guys! Bit of an uneventful chapter for you today, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. And do not fear, there will be some Bill/Hermione scenes presently.

To my lovely reviewers; I can't really list all the reviewers and people who pm'd me who were happy with chapter 7; I'd be here all day! I love it though, thank you guys :) But all I can say to you all is sorryyyyyy! I swear, things will get better, eventually! And I just want to reassure you that I will _not_ be having scenes of parents hitting children in this; I write some seriously awful things (spoilers that make me hate myself alert), but... Well, I just can't write that. As for my chapter 8 reviewers; again, sorry. Um... Please guys, stick with me. And, of course, to all of you, thanks you.

And please, **_please_** if you, or anyone you know is suffering from Depression of any kind, seek help! There's no shame in asking for help, and you will _never_ be alone.

 **Chapter 9**

As she had said she would, she returned to their house with the children the next morning, before sending them back to Hogwarts through the fireplace. As soon as their waving forms had vanished in the flash of green, she turned on her heel and headed for the door again; she'd seen the others back to school but so-help-her-Merlin she wasn't going to stay in that place with Ron. With reflexes that would've rivalled Harry's in his days as seeker though, he shot his hand out and grabbed her wrist tightly, halting her in her process and spinning her around until she was facing him.  
"Where are you going love?" He asked innocently.  
She yanked her arm out of his grip and whipped her wand out as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Out." She snapped.  
He raised his eyebrow at the piece of wood pointed at his chest. "Out where?"  
"None of your business."

He frowned at her. "It is my business, actually, you're _my wife_." She snorted disdainfully and jumped back as he lunged out to grab her again. "If you don't tell me, you'll make me do something I'll regret." He warned.  
"Don't you _dare_ threaten me." She hissed, and it was his turn to look scornful.  
"Or what?" She raised her weapon and pointed in at his face, feigning a confidence she didn't feel. "You're not going to hex me." He said with certainty. "I'll take the children from you if you do; it'll break their little poor hearts."  
She blanched but didn't take down her wand or lessen her furious expression. "I'm going to work." She growled through gritted teeth.  
"No need. I sent an owl to the Ministry, saying that we're taking a day off."  
"How dare you! We can't just take time off work if we feel like it! And you _certainly_ can't speak for me like that."  
He gave a small smile. "It seems I can, actually."  
"I'm still going out."  
"Hmm." He tapped his chin in apparent thought. "I don't think I want you to."  
"I don't think I give a damn."

A crease settled between his brows. "Don't talk to me in that tone. I don't appreciate it."  
She snorted indelicately. "I don't appreciate much of what you've done the past few days." He reached to grab her again but she darted out of his range, levelling her wand at him once more. "Don't touch me Ronald, I mean it."  
He rolled his eyes. "Please. We can both agree you're not going to do anything." The scorn in his voice infuriated her and before she knew it the control she had on her magic, which had been tentative lately to say the least, snapped and a bang erupted from her, throwing her husband backwards until he over the top of the sofa, landing on his back ungainly. "You little-" He began, snarling, but she was already walking away.  
"Bye." She called coolly as she slammed the front door behind her and stepped into the crisp morning air, breathing heavily with anger and a little dread, but mostly gratefully to be out of the house.

She knew that she should've held her temper better, knew that Ron would undoubtedly try to find a way to make her suffer for attacking him, but Merlin help her she couldn't control herself. Sighing slightly, she gathered her thoughts, calmed down as much as she could to avoid losing an eyebrow, and span on the spot, disapparating and arriving with a small pop in a woodland clearing. She looked around, noting the familiar landscape that was encrusted with the last of the winter frost, and hearing the soothing babble of the nearby stream as the dead leaves crunched beneath her feet. The sun was trying desperately to penetrate the canopy of branches and evergreens above her, bathing the scene in a watery emerald glow, a few pockets of pale beams of light shining through the gaps above, gold swords in an otherwise moss-like world.

She quickly found the source of freshly running water and knelt by the brook, cupping her hands and splashing herself with the icy liquid, shivering but relishing in the sharp way it snapped her mind into focus. She gave her wand a slight wave and a rock was swiftly transfigured into a blanket, which she quickly warmed before lying on her back and staring at the steely sky that poked through the leaves above.

Ron had threatened her, not only with violence but with her own children. True, the guilt she felt over Harry and Ginny's deaths still throbbed through her veins like poison, but this had gone too far; it seemed as if whatever hatred her husband felt for her had moved beyond the blame for the loss of his sister and best friend. She had tried to make excuses for him, even when she had been beaten, even when he blamed her for their deaths, even when he screamed that he hated her. And now, only two days ago though it felt like a week, he had broken her nose and wrist, and given her a good half-hours work making sure she wasn't concussed from her blow to the head. She had meant what she said; she was done.

But then, yesterday... Though she could attempt to fool herself into believing that Ron would never actually ruin her children's lives in order to keep her with him, she couldn't bring herself to waste her time doing so. He was beyond excuse, beyond forgiveness, beyond her help. Much as she hated it, however, and much as she pushed her so-called brilliant mind to find a solution that wouldn't turn the whole Weasley clan, excepting Bill and perhaps Charlie, against herself and worse, Rose and Hugo, she could see no option other than continuing her 'happily-ever-after' marriage. A few years ago, she had told Bill that their generation were never meant to be happy, and that they had to sacrifice themselves for their children's happiness. Now it rang true more than ever, and in her darkest moment, she brought back her old mantra. _Have to be strong._

 _Oh crap, Bill_. She huffed a sigh and rolled onto her side, watching the running water sadly, and with more than a little concern. She knew she had agreed to meet him later on, in the place of their first date no less; how stupid had she been in suggesting that! Yes, she had been avoiding him, and her cowardice had led to Ron's actions the night before last... But he knew. Bill _knew_. He knew _everything_.

He knew that Ron blamed her for his sister and brother-in-laws death. He knew that Ron had beaten her to the point of breaking her bones. He knew that she was scared. But most of all, the thing that made tears fill her eyes; he _didn't_ know that there was _nothing she could do_. He _didn't_ know that she should have stopped Harry and Ginny leaving that night. He _didn't_ know that the guilt that ran through her very veins was deserved. And what she prayed he would _never_ know, was that Ron was now using their daughter against her. Much as she wanted to leave her childhood friend on his bloody own for what he'd done, telling Bill about his daughter's part in Ron's manipulation would lead to curses, hexes and, if she caught him at his 'time of the month', the elder man beating the living daylights out of his brother. She was disappointed, furious and somewhat pitying of Ron, but she didn't want him dead, and she certainly didn't want Bill burdened with the knowledge that he had attacked his flesh and blood. All because of her. _Guilty guilty guilty_.

She took her wand from its harness and, closing her eyes, sent a quick patronus to Hogwarts, concern flooding her mind, before casting another one to send to her house, with the simple message; "Ron, I'll be back later. There's no need to get the children involved again." She hadn't had to cast the Patronus Charm for many years, since before the Final Battle in fact, as owls were much less conspicuous and in all practicality easier to use. To use the charm again made her instinctively uneasy, as if dementors would round the corner at any moment. Though at the same time, it seemed as if they already rested inside her. But she had hardly thought to pack her owl, Archimedes (or Archie as she affectionately called him), before leaving that morning, and strolling into Diagon Alley to visit the Post Office would undoubtly draw attention to herself.

A small Jack Russell appeared moments later, with its sweet canine face twisted with her husband's anger. His voice came from the silvery dog form in a furious stream of what she 'should be doing' and how he 'hadn't allowed it', but she merely waved away the patronus, apologising to the Russell as it disappeared due to her spell. Then feeling incredibly stupid for apologising to the manifestation of a spell. The dog had been larger than ever before, its usually previously pacified, even happy, snout curled into a violent snarl, reflecting its owners caster, but more noticeable than ever was the fact that it was as whispery as smoke, even more so in fact. Patronuses fed on positive energy; it seemed that Ron had little at the moment. Then again, neither did she.

When she had seen the Jack Russell, she had felt momentarily hopeful, as if the pure symbol of joy and hope was almost a sign of fate that things would somehow get better. Maybe she could find a way to resolve this all, she and Ron could divorce peacefully, and their children could be brought up in as normal a way as possible. Now, as she turned her eyes back to the sky, and the sun that was forcing its way through the rain-clouds, she felt ridiculous. How long would she keep kidding herself that she could be happy?

Just as a sole tear ran down her face, another patronus appeared and she groaned, assuming it would be her husband again, but to her pleasant surprise, it was a small, almost opaquely silver cat that approached her, and it quickly wrapped around her legs, smiling up at her. She sighed happily; it was her old Professor.  
"Hermione, it's lovely to hear from you, but how many times have I asked you to call me Minerva?" The voice came from the feline that was now settled in her lap, staring with McGonagall's knowing eyes, and she couldn't help but give a small chuckle. "As to the children, they all arrived fine, though in the interest of honesty, Rose seems a bit preoccupied. Perhaps we could meet for tea this weekend; if you're unable to come to Hogwarts I'll be more than happy to come to you. I wont offend you by trying to understand what you're all going through, but I'd like to help you and the children in any way I can. Perhaps you could also tell me why you're using patronus messages again, and why yours has changed? And who knows, maybe I can convince you to finally take up the role of Potions Mistress; you know my views on Horace! Please reply soon, and I hope we can meet. Minerva."

She grinned as she laughed loudly, and the cat gave one last lick to her face before disappearing in a puff. She and Professor McGon- _Minerva_ \- had, when she was in school, shared a mutual respect and liking. In the years since leaving, they had developed a strong friendship; they argued, debated, became infuriated with one another, but at their core, they were both intelligent, strong women, and would always end their meetings laughing and with a hug. Tears ran freely now, as she remembered Ginny, Tonks, and even Parvati and Lavender, her late female friends. All dead. _Dead dead dead. My fault. Guilty guilty guilty._

Rose seeming preoccupied was Hermione's fault ( _guilty guilty GUILTY_ ) but she would arrange to meet the Headmistress Saturday morning, then ask Rose if she'd like to spend the day together, so she could quell any concerns or worries she had. Shaking her head, she addressed the section of Pro- _Minerva's_ \- message that had made her frown in confusion. True, patronus messages hadn't been used in years, but surely Minerva would recognise her otter? Maybe it had simply grown.

Thinking of Ron and Harry, and her parents, and of perfect grades, she confidently called; "Expecto Patronum." A small wisp appeared from her wand, barely enough to send away a baby dementor. She frowned; only half an our ago she had performed two perfectly strong charms, with the added stress of putting messages in! Clearly thinking of Harry, and his death, had distracted her. She concentrated on the mental picture she had of her and Ron with Hugo and Rose, when life was good, and cried out the spell once more; "Expecto Patronum!" A nose and snout appeared, seeming different to her usual otter, but almost immediately disappeared. She tilted her head to the side and lay back on her blanket, considering what she had been thinking, and feeling, when she had sent McGon- _Minerva!_ \- the message.

 _Rose. Hugo. Bill... And the life we could never have,_ She frowned; thinking that she was married to the wrong man. and her son had the wrong father, and her daughter didn't know who her true father was; well that was hardly positive thinking. However, as she idly ran her fingers through the frosty grass beneath her, her mind was sent back to her last visit here, to the Forest of Dean, years prior when Bill had surprised her with a candlelit dinner on a blanket for her birthday, and given her the rose ring that hung around her neck, and had inspired the name of their daughter. As she closed her eyes, she could nearly taste the wine he had served them, feel his fingers brushing against her skin as they made love beneath the moon, hear his gently whispered words; "I'll make you happy 'Mione."

And she had been happy. Incandescently happy, despite the, as Bill had called it, 'fiasco with Phlegm', she had felt beautifully ecstatic with her life, with her plans for the future. Plans that were now simply shadows of a life that she could've had, that now haunted her more than any dementor or Death Eater ever could. But then didn't Harry once tell her that the first patronus he had cast had been when he'd thought of his parents, of a situation that he wasn't sure had even been real? The thoughts of the life that she could have, _should_ have had consumed her, overwhelmed her, and as her minds eye focussed on her small cottage, she and Bill sleeping beside one another with their children down the hall, she gave a watery smile.

" _Expecto Patronum._ " She breathed, and a silvery figure, almost opaque, burst forth from the tip of her wand, standing tall and strong, over half the height of a fully grown man. She supposed she should feel surprised that it wasn't an otter that now blinked at her and rested its nose on her leg, but somehow she had known, as soon as she had cast the charm, what animal would come forth. The beautiful wolf, with white markings across its face and chest that were exact replicas of Bills scars, had long, lustrous fur and slender legs and paws, one of which now rested on her chest as it seemed to frown at her. It was undoubtedly a representation of her former lover; clearly, just as Tonks's had when she had fallen for Remus, her patronus had changed to show the true feelings in her heart, whether she chose to act on them or not.

She sighed as the wolf disappeared; no wonder Minerva had been confused. She would have to think of a reasonable excuse when they met on Saturday. And speaking of... She quickly sent her wolf back to her old school, arranging to arrive at Hogwarts on Saturday morning, and also requesting to take Rose out for the day. Of course, normally, she would owl Rose to ask herself, but she couldn't bring herself to risk being found yet, and sending her patronus to her teenage daughter would only worry her.

 _Poor Rose..._ She groaned aloud as her mind turned to her little girl, and the pain and stress she had unintentionally caused her. Though, she mused, if Ron had simply carried on with his sobriety, there would be nothing to concern her young ones, and who knows, maybe they would all be a bit happier. But then, he was only drinking because Harry and Ginny died, and both she and her husband knew who to blame for that. That one fateful night clouded her vision; urging Harry to go out and assuring him she would care for James, Albus and Lily so that he could enjoy his anniversary. Feeling a pleasing warmth fill her as Ginny smiled at the surprisingly wonderful life she had, and the tender look of adoration the pair had shared as they left. Ignoring the blatant warning signs Crookshanks and Rose's kneazle Tyg had given her, as she had been too self-absorbed in her own issues regarding the possibility of leaving Ron. She should have stopped them, should have listened to the magical animal's instincts, should have... She should have done something, _anything_ , to prevent them walking out of that door, eating their anniversary dinner, leaving the restaurant and getting hit by that _damned_ drunk driver.

Merlin, how she hated herself. If logic hadn't abandoned her, she might have realised that their death wasn't her fault, that there was nothing she could've done, that Ron was simply manipulating her in the worst way imaginable. But logic _had_ abandoned her, whether it be due to clinical depression, or survivors guilt from the war, or even the bloody memories that would never. Leave. Her. _Alone_. Logic was gone, and she was left only with the dark stirrings of uncertainty, fear and guilt that twisted any and every bright spark in her life. As she dozed fitfully in the cool forest air, the light of evil curses flashed behind her lids, tears of hopeless heartache streamed down silently from her eyes, and she twitched slightly as nightmarish memories of her husband abusing her made her curl into a ball and whimper in her sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N** Hellooo again. Big thanks, as ever, to my reviewers; guest, I'm really happy that you managed to get out of your situation, and congratulations on 15 years of marriage! With regards to other stories, I'm writing an Oliver/Hermione one for bookworm which (due to technical issues) will hopefully be up soon, but after I finish posting Girl No More, I'm probably going to be taking a bit of a break from FF. When I come back, though, who knows? Crossy, I'm glad it clears up a few things, and thank you so much! It's always lovely to hear that my writing's appreciated :) bookworm; sorry it made you sad, but I know that you'll probably enjoy chapter 12 a lot ;)

Read, review, favourite, follow and, as always, enjoy! Ta!

 **Chapter 10**

She awoke with a start as the sun was beginning to set; she had slept nearly the whole day away! Then again, she mused, she hadn't slept at all the previous night, too concerned with the children, and the night before had followed a similar fashion, as she had been nursing her wounds, both mental, physical and emotional. So it was no surprise that she had slept for nearly nine hours straight, and she couldn't deny that, though her muscles were sore from lying on the hard ground for so long, she hadn't felt so refreshed in days, weeks even. Refreshed or not, however, her heart was still heavy, and it seemed to sink even further when she noticed that the sun had now disappeared from the sky, a stark reminder that her meeting with Bill was imminent.

She winced as she rested her weight back on her wrists, glaring at the dark bruises there that stained her pale skin with paints of blue, purple and sickly green. She sighed, twirling her wand through her fingers before pointing it to the offending area and casting a quick soothing charm, followed by a glamour. She gazed at the now once more flawless skin, anger, fury really, filling her up as she thought of her husband, before she gave a defeated sigh and covered up her face with the same spells. She swiftly transfigured the dark blue sweater she had thrown over her grey top that morning, grimacing grimly as the woollen v-neck became black, sprouted a hood and a high neck, until it was finally a familiar garment. She always wore the matte black hooded jacket as her disguise when she wanted to avoid being seen, whether it be simply popping to the local shop (evidently the paparazzi were fascinated by her milk buying habits), visiting a clothes shop to buy some more _personal_ items (clearly the whole wizarding world needed to know the exact size of her breasts), or, it would seem, going for secret liaisons with her brother-in-law/father of her daughter/man who still owned her heart, and her love. _Yup_ , she thought, _I've officially gone mad_.

Heaving a sigh, and shaking her head as she had the almost unbearable urge to chuckle at the incredulity of the situation, she pulled the zip up to her chin and flipped the hood over her hair, bowing her head so her face was covered and slouching her shoulders, completely hiding the fact that she was _the_ Hermione Granger. Unexpectedly, her mind flickered back to her childhood, before she had known that magic even existed. When she had been growing up, she had suffered from merciless bullying, what with her large teeth, unruly hair and passion for books and learning; she had learned early on that children could be unimaginably cruel. So she had hidden, as she did now, in thick, shapeless and hooded clothing, concealing her face when she went into town or even just on the playground, trying to avoid attracting attention from her classmates. How times had changed; once bullied and now revered, once treated with hatred and disdain and now with adoration and something akin to worship, once hated by those around her but finding solace in the quiet of her books, now loved by almost everyone and finding no peace at all.

Of course, as a child, her parents had given her the stereotypical excuses; 'They're only jealous', 'They don't understand you', and, of course, 'It'll all be worth it in the end, you'll be much happier than they ever will'. She gave an indelicate snort, gazing at the half-moon in the sky miserably and looking for her favourite constellation, the one that she could always see from her window as a child; Orion's Belt. She traced the line of stars with her finger, thinking absently that she would bet all the galleons in her Gringotts vault that the majority of her primary school classmates would be happier than her. For Merlin's sake, she had fought in a war when she was only a teenager, had lost her dearest friends _far_ too early, and was now married to not only the wrong man, but an abusive _bastard_ at that. She scowled, an unusual sense of unjustness overwhelming her and, though she felt selfish for thinking it, she couldn't help but feeling that her life had been so damn unfair! So many people had been lost, the man who supposedly loved her was an alcoholic son-of-a-crup, and her poor children had nothing that she had tried to give them- stability, comfort, a true family. _Sure mum, sure dad, I bet they're all_ really _jealous right now_.

Shaking her head and telling herself firmly to _get a grip_ , she cast a silent charm and jumped in shock when a golden 19:54 appeared in the air before her; if she didn't get a move on she'd be late to meet Bill. Checking that her collar was up to her neck, and her hood pulled down as far as it could go, she stood and focussed on an alleyway in Muggle London, arriving there with a small pop moments later. It was filthy, strewn with empty beer bottles and crisp packets, and her shoes stamped over weeks-old cigarette stumps as she headed towards the main street, kicking an old take-away box out of her way. She barely noticed, other than wrinkling her nose at the smell of waste, and before she knew it she was on one of the many backstreets of London, and heading towards a small restaurant, an inconspicuous place tucked between a dry-cleaners and a bingo hall, but she knew it served delicious food.

She gave a quick look around, uncertain as always when around crowds, before she spotted Bill. He was leaning against a wall on the opposite street, looking as handsome and tempting as ever; black jeans that hugged tight to the strong thighs she remembered only too well, a grey shirt that showed off the muscles in his chest and arms, tight enough to nearly make her mouth water with desire, and his whole form seemed to be exuding confidence and, for want of a better phrase, sexual appeal. But she knew him. She knew that the fact that he crossed his arms as he did was to hide his clenched fists, knew that he chose to stand across the street because he knew she would be concerned about anyone seeing them together, knew that beneath his boots his toes would be clenched in worry.

And then there was his face. She leant against the opposite wall to him and indulged herself in looking at him for a short while. Scarred, but perfect in her eyes, his face right now seemed to be calm, but she could tell from the slight indent in his cheek that he was gnawing the inside in agitation. Still though... His eyes, those beautiful sapphire eyes, were darting around, looking for her probably. His lips were pinched at the edges and slight creases had formed around his eyes, showing his obvious concern. Even the muscles that were clenching in his neck betrayed his seemingly passive demeanour. Still... He was just so handsome. From his perfectly formed body, to his Grecian-Godlike face, to the intensity of those sapphire eyes. Eyes that now found her, and bore into her like blue embers.

Bill strolled across the road as if there was nothing wrong, and stood before her, trying to catch her gaze, though she determinedly stared at the ground. "Hi." He murmured. "I wasn't sure you'd come."  
She gave a half-hearted shrug, burying herself even further into her hoodie. "I promised I would come, so here I am."  
She heard him sigh. "Well, shall we go in then, have something to eat?"  
Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she growled, "I didn't come to have dinner with you. I'm not hungry." As if on cue, her stomach remembered that it hadn't been supplied in over a day, and gave a loud grumble.  
Bill raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you _are_ hungry."  
She rolled her eyes, but was unable to stop the smile that crept up at the oh-so-familiar expression Bill wore now, and accepted his proffered arm. "Ever the gentleman." She quipped lightly as they walked through the restaurant door.  
He smirked at her. "Once upon a time you'd call me cheesy."  
She gave a loud laugh. "You _are_ cheesy!" She replied, remembering the constant joke she'd had with Bill regarding the romantic side the incredibly masculine man didn't want anyone to see, least of all his family.

"A table for two, please, and somewhere private, if it's possible?" Bill asked in his most courteous voice, clearly charming the waitress that had greeted them.  
Said woman giggled, making Hermione roll her eyes under her hood. "Um," The blonde said while unashamedly looking up Bill. "I suppose I could do something, though our back tables are usually reserved..."  
He flashed a grin, saying, "I'd be very grateful for anything you could do."  
The waitress smiled widely, and seemed to be swaying her hips more than was necessary as she led them to their table at the back of the restaurant. "Here are your menus." She said, and Hemione didn't miss the piece of paper slipped under Bill's. "Is there anything I can get for you?" Ms Big-Breasted-Blonde asked sweetly, her eyes focussed solely on Bill. "Some drinks, perhaps?"  
Bill gave the waitress a smile, before glancing at her, and asking; "A bottle of Merlot?"  
She blinked in surprise, before nodding. When it was the two of them alone again, she gave a tentative smile. "You remembered?"  
He tilted his head in confusion. "Remembered what?"  
She removed her hood, letting her curls fall around her face wildly. "My favourite wine, Merlot."  
"Or course I did." He replied lightly, his tender eyes following the bounce of her hair. She gave a small smile and placed her order when the busty waitress returned, thanking Bill as he poured her a glass of the red wine. "What shall we toast to?" He asked casually.  
"To Rose." She said softly, and he gave a small, sad nod.  
"To Rose."

"Did they- hey, what's this?" Bill interrupted himself, picking up the small scrap of paper their waitress had left.  
Smirking slightly, she grinned. "It would seem that Ms Blonde who's serving us is into older men." She teased with a small wink.  
He looked bemusedly at the phone number, before frowning. "I'm not old." He replied grumpily, and she laughed as his eyes twinkled with good-natured humour and he casually pushed the paper away. "Anyway, did the kids get back to school okay?"  
She nodded. "I took them back to the house early this morning; they were probably back in time for breakfast. I sent Minerva a patronus to check, and they arrived safely, though she said Rose had been a bit distracted recently; I'm meeting her on Saturday to have a chat."  
"You sent a patronus?"  
"Mmm-hmm. I didn't have Archie with me."  
He raised an eyebrow in an achingly familiar expression. "You weren't at work?" His face dropped and his mouth twisted as though he'd tasted something foul when she explained what Ron had done, and he lowly growled, "He has no right. So wait, you spent the day at home with him?"  
She snorted. "Of course not, I went to the Forest of Dean."  
His eyes flickered down to the ring that hung on the chain around her neck, the ring that he had given her. "Right." He murmured.

The waitress, looking distinctly less cheerful as she noticed her discarded number on the side of the table, brought their food over, pouting when Bill barely glanced at her, his eyes fixed on Hermione. "It's changed, you know." She told him lightly, as they tucked into their meals. He tilted his head in curiosity, and she continued. "My patronus; it's not an otter any more."  
"Oh?"  
"It's a wolf."  
He paused, a forkful of steak halfway to his mouth, which he slowly lowered as she shrugged. "A wolf." He repeated. "That's... Interesting." She nodded and stared as hard as she could into her wine glass. "And, erm, when did it change?"  
She shrugged slightly. "Well I haven't had cause to cast the charm since the war, so there's no way of being sure. But I imagine it was... Fourteen, maybe fifteen years ago."  
"Ah." His voice was soft and when she glanced at him his sapphire eyes were boring into hers fiercely, like the bluebell flames she was so famous for. Before she knew it, he had grabbed her hand across the table and was stroking the back lightly with the pad of his thumb. No words were needed as they gazed at one another, and for a few moments all was silent.

In synch, they smiled and dropped hands, and Bill raised his glass once more. "To us." He said quietly, and she clinked it with a small nod, before they returned to their meals. "I'm glad you didn't stay at the house last night." He blurted suddenly, and she knew they had come to the crux of why he had wanted to speak with her. "And I'm glad you're not avoiding me any more."  
"I- I just..." She stuttered, staring out of the window at the swirling wind and beginnings of a torrential rainstorm. She wanted to tell him that avoiding him had hurt her more than she would ever admit, that all she had wanted to do when Ron had attacked her the other day was floo him and have him hold her in the cottage they had lived in together, that even now she wanted to run away with him, ignore Fluer and Ron and what everybody would say, have the life they wanted. _Together_. "I just couldn't face you." She murmured eventually, still staring out the window at the now pouring rain.  
"What? What do you-"  
"After telling you about..." _Harry and Ginny_ "After you found out..." _It was my fault_. "Now that you know..." _I'm guilty_.  
The unspoken thoughts whipped through her mind violently, but it seemed that they didn't need to be voiced, as Bill gave a slow sigh and a loving look. "Hermione, you have to stop blaming yourself. Gin and Harry was, well, it was tragic. But you aren't to blame, the only idiot to blame is that damned driver. What Ron's been saying simply isn't fair, or true, and even if it was, it doesn't excuse what he's been doing. You can't stay with him 'Mione."  
She frowned. "It's not as simply as just leaving him any more." As his head tilted to the side inquisitively, she gave a silent groan and took a large drink of wine. "He's threatened to take the children from me." She told him miserably, and watched as his expression passed from shock, to sadness, to fury, then devastated empathy.  
Finally, his jaw set stubbornly, he regarded her sternly. "He wouldn't be able to."  
Sighing wretchedly, she nodded as he tilted the wine questioningly towards her glass and murmured a thanks as her glass was re-filled. "He'll tell everyone that Rosie and Hugo aren't his, that I've been cheating on him for years."  
"They wouldn't believe him."  
She gave a sad smile. "Everyone else would. The kids would be thrown into the public eye, your mother and the rest of your family would probably believe him, and my children would lose half their family, let alone the pain it would cause them to be caught between their mother and father's issues."  
He was silent for a while as they finished their meals, before leaning back, eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's Fleur and Victoire all over again."

The waitress came over, removed their plates and asked if they'd like the desert menu, which they both denied, having lost their appetite somewhat with their unsavoury conversation. After a few minutes of silence, perforated only by the occasional laugh from the nearby tables, or the slight clink as one took a sip of wine and caught the glass on something, Bill leant forward on his elbows, resting his chin on the back of his hands. "You're not going to leave him." He stated sadly.  
"Not yet. The kids have lost too much already. In a few months though... Well, who knows? I just want to look after the children, first and foremost." She could see the conflict that ran over his face and instinctively moved to cup his cheek in her palm. "I'll look after her." She murmured softly, needing no elaboration as to who the 'her' was.  
He placed his hand over hers. "I know you will." The confidence that he showed in her care of their daughter couldn't help but make her smile, though it was swept from her features only moments later. "It's you that I'm worried about."  
She shrugged. "I'm not the one that matters right now." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut across him. "We're parents, and being good parents means putting the needs of the children above our own needs. You know that."  
"I do." He nodded. "Though Fleur and Ron seemed to have missed that particular parenting class staple."  
She grimaced. "How are things with you and Fleur?"  
"Fantastic." He replied sarcastically. "Sometimes I wish I had a place to go to, like you do with your cottage. Staying in the same house as that... Well, with her, drives me mental sometimes."

Both feeling miserable, they finished their wine, paid the bill and left, only to be immediately pelted by the rain and knocked off-balance by the wind as they ran towards a safe apparation point. "I still don't like you being with him." Bill yelled over the storm when they arrived. "Are you going back there tonight?"  
She shook her head, feeling her hair frizz through the hood that was now soaked enough to be rendered pointless. "I'll stop by the house to grab some clean clothes, then go back to the cottage. I can't stay in the house again, not yet."  
He nodded and gave a relieved look, red hair seeming brown in the torrential rain and eyes squinted in order to see her properly. "I'm glad. Just promise you won't start avoiding me again."  
She smiled and, deciding that guilt be damned, replied, "I won't, avoiding you hurts too much." He took her hands as they stood in the nearest alley away from muggle view, where they would undoubtedly part ways and apparate away soon. "Will you go back to Shell Cottage?"  
He shrugged his shoulders. "After tonight I'm not sure I can bear to." He said, and even though he had to shout to be heard, she could hear the sweet sadness in the voice, and see the love in his expression. "I might check into a hotel and-"  
"You could stay at the cottage with me." She blurted. Whether it was the pain that reverberated between them or the frank honesty they had shared that night, or simply seeing him again, she couldn't tell. But she couldn't regret offering Bill a place to stay that night, even as her conscience screamed warnings at her and her mind scolded her ruthlessly. "What I mean to say," She added cautiously, "is that I expanded a few of the rooms for the children last night, so there's a spare bedroom, if you want it."

As they locked eyes, both were sent back to years ago, when Ron had been drunk and she had been driven to drop Rose and Hugo off at Bill's house, and he had given her the same offer she now gave him. _Stay with me_. She had declined, and gone home to help her husband, but supposed that now, as she was ignoring the very reasoning that had counselled her against staying at Shell Cottage that night, she was a total hypocrite. But she couldn't bring herself to care, as she simply wanted Bill, her first and only true love, to have one night of peace.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or..." He asked cautiously.  
Making a mental deal with herself, she smiled. "Of course." There was nothing wrong with Bill staying at her house, just as long as she stuck to her personal agreement and remembered that he was her brother-in-law, and nothing more. Yup, if she did that, there was nothing wrong with it at all, right?  
The somewhat shy smile that spread across his features and lit up his eyes made her questionable judgement worth it, in her mind. "I'd love to."  
She gave an answering sweet look, before yelling, "Give me about half an hour to get some stuff together and change the wards on the fireplace." She had, she remembered, blocked everyone, excepting herself but including Bill, from flooing to the cottage after Fleur had returned and sent her life into a frenzy, so would have to undo the complex charms she had weaved to allow others entrance. He nodded, and after calling quickly that she would see him soon, they both apparated, she to brave seeing Ron again and he to pick up his own set of spare clothes from Shell Cottage, unknowing and uncaring about whether his wife would be there or with one of her French lovers. No thought of Fleur could wipe the small smile from his features.

Though perhaps, if he had known that sat at a table near where they had eaten, was a woman with an acid green quill grinning maniacally, he might not have been so eager to smile.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N** Noswaith dda! Or bore da, depending on where you are! Another chapter here, and a little note that I might not be able to update on Sunday, or maybe next week, but I'll try to! A little explanation for the soft toys too, I still have one of my teddies from childhood, and I recently gave her to my mum so she was there when I couldn't be. So yeah, I'm cute :) Also (he's brown in the original but hey-ho), cupcakes for anyone who knows what Disney film Archimedes the Owl is from!

 **Reviewers** ; Cat130; glad you're enjoying it! Crossy; thank you, glad you thought it was fab, and I'll update as soon as I'm able :) bookworm; hopefully my break won't be too long, and I'm grateful that you understand it, very sorry that once more I've made you sad :( But remember, I told you chapter 12 would make you happy! MrsMorgan; I agree, Damn Skeeter! Grrr...

 **Chapter 11**

She opened the front door to the home she and her family had shared for over fourteen years, the cheerfully painted red wood creaking slightly beneath her touch as she inwardly winced at the seemingly stale air, almost imagining that she could smell whiskey and ale permeating the stillness. The hallways were as they had been earlier on that day- was it really only this morning that the children had left?- which illogically confused her; in her haste to leave before, she hadn't had a proper chance to look around, and she half-expected the floors to be painted with her blood. But no, the peaceful place was just as it always had been, from the pictures of friends and family adorning the walls to the now-drooping flowers that she had placed the morning before Ron had last attacked her. The only sign of what had happened was a large chip taken out of the corner of the fireplace in the main room, which she, with a sickening feeling, realised was where he had thrown her and she had hit her head. Evidently he had at least had the presence of mind to clear up the blood she had lost before taking the children out of school.

She tiptoed up the stairs, assuming that as he wasn't on the sofa, sprawled out in his usually way, he must be upstairs, hopefully asleep. Or at least sober. Making as little noise as possible to avoid detection, she jumped in shock as she heard a low grunt, and whipped her wand out instinctively, pointing it towards where she thought the sound had originated from- the kitchen- and cautiously crept back down and towards there. Another groan made her almost yelp aloud, and she whipped around into the tiled room with a hex on the tip of her tongue, scowling when she noticed the cause of her distress; her husband, passed out, face down and snoring at the kitchen table, a whiskey bottle on its side near his hand, its contents spilt across the wooden surface.

Sighing, but resolve pounding through her, she turned on her heel, leaving him there as she firmly told the voice of guilt in her head to _shut up_. She nimbly ran upstairs, throwing clothes into her trusty pink bag and grabbing Archie's cage and Crookshanks' bed (both empty at present, as the owl had left for the night's hunt and Crooks was at the cottage), before she paused, hovering in the doorway to Rose's room. Making a split-second decision, she ducked inside and swiftly grabbed the small stuffed animal that sat on her daughter's pillow; originally a gift from Bill when she had been a young girl, Rose had given it to Hermione the night before she first left for Hogwarts, with strict instructions that her mother care for it, sorry, 'him'. The sad twinkle in her eye, however, had betrayed the girl's nerves about leaving home, and the knowingly lingering hug they had shared, coupled with the quiet insistence that Wolfie, with his wonderfully childish nickname that had stuck throughout the years, would look after her, had emphasised the perceptiveness Rose had inherited from her mum. The perceptiveness that had then shown her how upset Hermione was at her first-born leaving the metaphorical nest. Holding Wolfie tight to her chest, and thinking lovingly of her daughter, her Rosie, she picked up her bag and the cage once more, and descended the stairs, pausing once more at the kitchen and looking at Ron.

 _I should help him._ Guilt admonished her.  
Her newly-found friend Anger replied snidely, _Why? He deserves it, after everything he's done.  
_ Fiery Loyalty flared up, scorching her with Disapproval at her side. _After everything? So after all the years you've spent together, all the happy times you've shared, you're just going to leave him there?  
_ Worry elbowed her way into the crowd. _He could choke on his own sick...  
_ Anger called for Self-Preservation and together they began scolding her. _So what, you're going to look after him,_ again _, just so that tomorrow he can beat you,_ again _, and you can act like nothing has happened,_ again _?  
_ Guilt swiftly silenced the other emotions running rampant in her heart. _But it's your fault. You're the reason his sister and best friend are dead. He's right to blame you._

 _That doesn't excuse what he's done._ Common Sense finally spoke up, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Bill's, and with a grimace she turned and began to stroll away, only to whip around once more at a small tapping on the window. Groaning as she lowered her defensive stance and dropped her wand, hushing Archimedes as he swooped in and throwing an apprehensive glance behind her as Ron murmured incomprehensibly. Her ebony owl fixed her with beady eyes as he perched atop the spare notepad she kept on the counter, a notepad designed for writing quick notes, reminders or letters...

Smiling at the bird and giving a silent sigh of relief, whilst simultaneously wondering why in Godric's name she hadn't thought of the idea sooner, she cast a silent accio and the pen on the other side of the room zoomed into her hand. But who to write to? She had determinedly not involved anyone else in her marital affairs, not wanting to upset her friends or family further, but as she was now faced with the choice between staying and helping Ron, leaving him be and risk him injuring himself, perhaps even fatally, or seeking help from elsewhere- well, the last was the more desirable of the three, the only one she could see herself living with.

Still though, who? Neville would be busy at Hogwarts and she hardly wanted him knowing the state of his old room-mate, and Luna was with Rolf in South America, looking for some Blue Ridged something-or-other, and besides would likely recommend plimpy soup or some nargle charm. Mr and Mrs Weasley were out of the question, as Arthur was likely working overtime again and Molly would simply fuss and not leave Hermione alone for weeks. Bill was, obviously, staying at the cottage that night and, besides, would probably pummel Ron within an inch of his life, if he even agreed to come, and Charlie was back in Romania. And the thought of bothering George and Angelina, what with her baby due any day and their previous issues with pregnancy, or Teddy and Victoire, who still had their own grief and burdens to work through, made her feel almost nauseas. So, who to ask for help? There was no-one else, except...

Smiling, she penned a quick note to Percy requesting his help, no questions asked, and promising to meet him for lunch sometime later in the week and explain herself. Without bothering to wait for a reply, and murmuring to Archie where he could find her after delivering the message, she stroked his black feathers, received a light peck on the finger in return, she exited the house, watching him soar away into the night before apparating away.

Checking the time, and realising she had less than five minutes before Bill was due to arrive, she swiftly knelt before the fireplace and began undoing the complex wards she had set years ago, frowning in concentration to avoid causing the floo version of splinching, which was much more dangerous and _infinitely_ more painful. So it came as a big surprise when her sharply focussed thoughts were interrupted when a very large, very ginger, very male, form fell on top of her, and she yelped in shock, rolling and withdrawing her wand protectively for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. Seeing Bill's matching surprised expression as he lay sprawled out on the floor, his eyes crossed as he stared at the piece of wood resting between his eyes, the pair suddenly burst into laughter, and somehow ended up lying side by side, his hand on her hip and hers resting against his chest as sapphire eyes bore into chocolate. He slowly raised his second hand and, taking her small one, that rested over his heart, linked them together gently, resting his forehead against hers as he gazed at their entwined fingers.

She studied him silently, from the ever-so-slight wrinkles appearing around his eyes to the almost-smile pulling at his lips. From the way their bodies seemed to arch towards each other even though they didn't allow them to touch, apart from their fingers, to those very fingers themselves, which joined perfectly as if they had been individually crafted to couple together. From the frown that had previously seemed permanent, yet was now vanishing with every minute they spent together, to the fiery blue orbs that now flicked up to meet her brown ones, both full of love and adoration and sweetly sad tenderness. Yes, she studied him, and with every part she studied, she realised how futile it had been to stay away and deny her love for him. And with every part she studied, she realised how damn wrong that was. And with every part she studied, she realised that she was caring less and less.

"Hey." He murmured after a while, the fire dancing in brilliant beams of light and shadow across them both.  
"Hey." She replied softly, realising that they hadn't unclasped their hands, yet not able to bring herself to feel guilty by the fact and, rather, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation.  
He smiled warmly at her. "So is there any particular reason you were knelt in front of the fire? Or were you just that desperate to have me on top of you?" He added the last with a slight chuckle and a cheeky wink.  
She giggled in a way that she hadn't for quite a while, the un-Hermione-ish way that only Bill seemed able to invoke in her, before remembering a time when they had made love on this very rug and frowning slightly. "I was undoing the wards. You're lucky that you arrived when you did, otherwise you'd have a fair few bits of missing skin and a hell of a lot of internal burns."  
He raised an eyebrow and her heart clenched, as it always seemed to when he did an expression or said something that reminded her of their time together. "Dare I ask why you had such advanced wards up, on top of the general floo blocks?"  
She shrugged. "I didn't want to be disturbed. By anyone."  
"By me?" He asked lowly, though his eyes told her that it was a rhetorical question.

Sighing, she pushed herself up and wondered to the kitchen, pulling out two wine glasses and filling them, unable to deny that it felt good to drink in her own home, having not done so for years in order to support Ron. Then, she swiftly wondered when her old cottage had once more become home; when she had first come here after her husband's brutal beating, when she had seen Hugo sleeping peacefully in his bed whilst Rose was curled under her arm, or now, when she saw Bill slouched casually on the sofa, looking as at ease as he had fourteen years prior. Handing him one of the glasses and brushing off his thanks, she sat at the opposite end and followed his eyes as he looked around the room, pausing on the pensieve he hadn't seen before and lingering on the empty bookcases. Feeling suddenly lonely as their eyes both locked on the sole book, the version of the Very Hungry Caterpillar she had given to him and never returned, she wandlessly made the book shoot towards him, before curling her legs up underneath herself and holding Rose's wolf teddy close to her chest.

"The wolf toy!" Bill called in recognition, though she merely nodded and sipped her wine. "What's it-"  
"Rose gave him to me the night before she left for Hogwarts, she must've been worried about how much I'd miss her. She promised he'd look after me."  
Bill nodded slowly. "I didn't even think she'd kept it, either of-"  
"Him." She corrected automatically, smiling at his baffled look. "Rosie has always insisted that it's a him, not an it. Even now, if someone says that he's a thing, she practically yells at them."  
He frowned. "Rather unusual for a teenager, isn't it?"  
"Wolfer and Wolfie were her security, when Ron was... Well, anyway, they've been there for her when Ron wasn't, and when I couldn't be." She smiled slightly. "He's always reminded her of you, you know."  
"Well that makes sense as I gave it, sorry, _him_ to her. It's natural for a child to associate things with the people who gave them to them."  
"She still does think of you." Bill frowned as she absently stroked the dark sandy coloured wolf in her arms. "Remember that you gave her two stuffed wolves? A brown and a ginger?"  
He nodded. "I couldn't help myself. I saw the one with fur the colour of your hair, then the ginger was next to it and..."  
She waved her hand to quieten him before continuing. "This is Wolfie, not Wolfer." Leaning over, so that he could see the colour more clearly by the firelight, his eyebrows rose at the fluff that had seemed almost crimson, but was, in fact, a fair chocolate colour.  
"So where's the ginger-furred one?" He asked quietly. "Where's Wolfer?"

He looked so lost, and so sad, that she couldn't stop herself from clutching his hand. Somehow this small child's plaything had evolved to mean not only a comfort to Hermione, but a representation of her daughter, and a connection to her true father. Perhaps even more than the kneazle he had given her, Tyg, the ginger and brown stuffed animals tied Bill and Rose together; after all, Wolfer and Wolfie had matched Rose's parents, down to the exact shade of fur and the fact that the brown was significantly smaller than the ginger.

Not only that, they had been with her through thick and thin, a constant comfort when Hermione was cleaning Ron's vomit from the floor. Or when the echoing silence came over her bedroom- the quiet that only came from severe silencing charms on the living room- and the severe silencing charms that only came when her father was drunk. Worst of all, and the thing that made Rose toss and turn restlessly in her four-poster bed at Hogwarts- to the point that one of her fellow Slytherins yelled at her- was the fact that the day before last, she had done nothing as she heard her mother, father and uncle screaming at one another, and her mum had been bruised afterwards. She had held Wolfer tight to her chest and cried unashamedly, but using the silencing charms she had taught herself to not disturb her room-mates once more.

But Hermione wasn't to know Rose's internal torment, and merely smiled at Bill. "Wolfer is at Hogwarts, with Rosie. She likes to know you're with her, in some way or another. You're her favourite-" _Uncle._ Uncle was the word that had always been used, with the kids, with the Weasleys and with the whole damn world. But now it felt poisonous on her tongue, as if saying the word would somehow wreck havoc on the barely contained control she was clinging onto within both her mind and heart. She started again. "You're her favourite-"  
 _Uncle.  
_ _Uncle.  
_ _Uncle.  
_ "Unather."  
His brows furrowed in confusion. "Sorry, what was that?"  
"Um..." She bit her lower lip nervously, not noticing how his eyes darkened at the motion, and continued. "Well, I was starting to say that you are her favourite uncle, but that felt wrong, so I changed halfway through and decided-"

She was cut off by his lips pressing against hers tentatively, and her eyes briefly widened in shock before, guilt be damned, she leant into him and deepened their kiss, flicking her tongue out and unable to stop the moan of desire erupting from her when he pushed back into her and allowed his tongue to tangle with hers. Though she hadn't realised it, during their conversation they had turned to face each other, rather than the fire, and they simultaneously took advantage of the fact, moving towards one another until they ended up embraced in the centre of the sofa, battling passionately, though they had no idea what they were battling for. Eventually she ended up straddling him, legs either side of his hips, feeling his considerable length (a part of his anatomy she _definitely_ remembered well) press against her thigh, and both were gasping inbetween fervent kisses.

Bill suddenly halted as her sweater was half-way up her chest, and pulled back. "Hermione," He started, breathless, nervous and clearly apprehensive, "You told me a few years ago that if we did this, we'd regret it." His intensely blue eyes pierced her, but rather than feeling intimidated or scared she felt...  
Safe. Content. Happy. And... "You told me a few years ago that you'd never regret being with me." She whispered back. "Do you remember the reason you gave?"  
"Of course." He replied in a hoarse voice. "I loved you." He gave her a soft kiss, though she could feel his heart beating frantically through the thin shirt he wore. "I still love you." He whispered. "But I don't want you to regret anything that happens between us."  
He pulled back and looked at her seriously, and with her swollen lips, heaving chest and lust-filled eyes, she stared back at him. "I love you." She whispered, as if it was a secret.  
He raised an eyebrow as a tear ran down his cheek, and he choked out, "You once told me that love wasn't enough."

She climbed off his lap, wiping the moisture from his cheek. "And you once thanked me for being a better, less selfish person than you." Pressing a chaste kiss against his cheek, she moved towards the stairs, calling back in what she hoped was a casual voice, "The spare bedroom is up the stairs, to the left, and the second door on the right. Feel free to transfigure anything, though spare bedding should be in the wardrobe." And only when she lay alone in her bed, staring unseeingly out of the window as the rain pelted the earth, did she allow her tears to stream mercilessly from her eyes and soak the pillow beneath her, heart breaking as she abandoned her attempt to keep under control. Because now, in this moment, she was honest with herself, and knew that she didn't want to be better, she didn't want to be less selfish, and she certainly didn't want to be here on her own, when the man she loved was down the hall, tossing and turning and crying just like her.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N** Hellooo, I know this is over three months late (sorry!) but technical difficulties and Mr Real Life have been a bugger recently! I wont bore you with a long note, so just please enjoy! And this chapter contains my awful attempts at sexual scenes, so if that offends you, avoid!

 **Disclaimer** ; I haven't spontaneously combusted and reformed as JKR, so everything recognisable is hers.

 **Chapter 12**

She woke up in the early hours of the morning, sweating from the nightmare that had shocked her awake and immediately wincing in pain as her wrist, head and chest throbbed; evidently her soothing charms had worn off. Groaning and shaking the memories of the war from her mind she rolled ungracefully out of bed, cursing silently when she stubbed her toe whilst exiting her room. Rubbing her sensitive areas and wondering briefly if she'd failed to heal her breaks properly, or if they'd merely been severe enough to ache even after her strongest charms, she moved silently towards the kitchen, fully intending to pour herself a large glass of firewhiskey before healing herself once more. She was so engrossed in trying to remember where she'd left the alcohol, that she didn't realise there was another person in the room before he gave a small cough, making her shriek and drop the glass she held in shock.

Bill chuckled lowly, his features partially hidden in the light of the half-moon, before wordlessly lighting his wand, making them both squint in the sudden brightness. "Sorry," He murmured, waving his wand at the broken shards at her feet and fixing them quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you."  
She shrugged slightly, waving off his apology and, quickly locating the whiskey bottle, summoned another glass and sat opposite him, magically pouring them both a healthy measure. "Can't sleep?"  
He shook his head and smiled, before giving his wry toast. "Here's to having insomniac tendencies." They clinked glasses as she laughed, immediately wincing as her fragile ribs and the bruised muscles of her face protested.

His face dropped into a scowl and she attempted a half-hearted shrug, before placing her wand against her wrist and cursing the fact that she would have to use her weaker left hand to cast the charms she needed. However, before she could begin to gather her magic and begin speaking, Bill dropped to the floor in front of her, quietly murmuring, "Allow me." From where his tall form was knelt on the ground before her chair, they were at eye level, and he met her gaze steadily, waiting for her confirmation. A ghost of a smile passed over his features as she jerked her head slightly in affirmation and acceptance of his help, before he raised his wand to rest on her nose, both giggling slightly when she became comically cross-eyed, only to be silenced when the fingers of his left hand brushed ever-so-gently over her bruised skin. Her lips parted in a mixture of relief and desire as his magic wrapped around her, passing to her from both his fingertips and his wand and soothing her aches until all she could feel was his slightly calloused skin resting lightly against hers.

"Anywhere else?" He asked hoarsely, clearly as affected by their close proximity as she was. She silently inclined her head toward her damaged right wrist, and he immediately moved back, to her mutual relief and disappointment. He halted, however, when he began to roll up the sleeve of her sweater, and his eyes travelled up her body, a small crease between his brows and confusion written across his features.  
"What is it?" She asked, feeling somewhat self-conscious, as she realised that all she wore over her small pyjama shorts and vest was the jumper that... "Oh..." She sighed in realisation, immediately moving to undress. "Sorry, I meant to give it back to you ages ago, but I-"  
"Don't." He interrupted gruffly, fingering the sweater that had been his; the only thing of his that she had allowed herself to keep after their world had been blown apart fourteen years ago. "It's always looked better on you anyway." He added with a small smirk, before returning to his prior task, holding her forearm lightly whilst murmuring healing charms. When the violently marred skin no longer caused her pain, she wiggled her fingers experimentally and gave a sigh of pure relief when no twangs ran up her arm. Bill gave her a small smile, before pressing his lips against the back of her hand in a way that sent her back, nearly fifteen years ago, to before they were even dating. To a day when a Quidditch near-accident had left them in a position where they were so close to kissing that even now her face flushed and her breathing hitched. From his dilated pupils, she guessed that he was remembering the same moment.

Before he could speak, or kiss her, or run away, she spoke softly, her words merely a breathless whisper. "My ribs." He tilted his head in confusion, and in reply she merely lifted the hem of the sweater and her vest, revealing the black and blue marks that seemed to have not healed at all over the past few days. "I tried healing them, but I might have done it wrong. Not even soothing charms are working too well. I-"  
"What did he do to you?" Bill growled, and as his eyes flashed up to meet hers she saw that they were a feral amber, the anger spiked within him at Ron's brutality belying the half-moon outside and stirring the wolf that slumbered in the basest corners of his psyche.  
She instinctively clutched his hands, speaking in a soothing voice as they locked gazes. "Bill, calm down." She spoke gently, rubbing small circles on the palms of his hands as she did so, knowing that if she couldn't help him reign his fury in, the next time she saw Ron, he would be in hospital. "I don't need you to go after him. I need you here, with me."  
The anger seemed to melt away from him as her words settled in, and he rested his cheek against the bare skin of her thigh gently, shoulders sagging and the gold in his eyes ebbing away as she idly ran her fingers through his long hair. "What did he do to you?" He repeated, calmer now, and as he resumed his position kneeling in front of her and placed his wand to her ribs, she noticed that the wildness in his eyes had drained away, to be replaced once more with the dark sapphire she knew so well.

She quietly told him about her husband's latest attack, from throwing her against the fireplace to stamping on her wrist, but other than the tightening of his shoulders and the clenching of his jaw, Bill gave no other reaction to her quiet voice as he ran his fingers and wand over her ribcage. A few minutes silence passed after she had finished her recount of the night, and she was sniffling, unable to hold back from crying slightly, when he knelt back and sighed heavily, absently wiping away one of her tears with his thumb. "The ribs weren't healed properly." He told her tightly. "Some of the breaks haven't been connected accurately. We need to get you to St Mungo's so they can fix it up for you."  
She blinked a few times at him, before, gnawing at her lower lip nervously, asked, "Can't you do it?"  
He raised an eyebrow at her, gaze flickering briefly to her mouth. "They'll have to re-break the bones before aligning them properly and mending them. They'll have medicines so you won't feel any pain and-"  
"Can't you do it?" She repeated, louder this time, as she met his eyes firmly.  
He sighed and ran a hand over his face wearily. "Unless you have some illegal, hospital-strength potions lying around, it'll hurt like hell, so-"  
"Yes," She interrupted slowly, "but can you do it? Fix my ribs?"  
"Why don't you want to go to St Mungo's?"  
"I trust you more than some stranger."  
He stared at her levelly, before frowning. "That's what I said to you when you broke my nose."  
She scowled right back at him. "That was an accident."

He smirked before sighing again. "Why do you _really_ not want to go there?"  
She shrugged. "I've spent enough time in hospitals to last me a lifetime, thanks. And besides, they ask questions."  
"Maybe it's right that they'll ask questions. It's about time Ron got what's coming to him."  
She frowned and shook her head. "We've talked about this, Bill, I can't leave him yet. Not until I figure out what to do about the children. Now," Her voice became brusque as she feigned a confidence her shaking hands betrayed, "will you fix my ribs, please?"  
His body slumped in defeat before he took a deep breath and fixed her with a stern look. "This is going to hurt. A lot."  
She nodded. "I know."  
"All right then. Let's get this over and done with."  
He pressed his wand against her chest once more and they both swallowed thickly, unable to tell who was more nervous, and she could see him mouthing _three, two, one_ to himself before a sharp pain ripped through her midsection and she hissed in agony. "So," She began tightly, desperate to distract herself, "how come you know so much- _agh_ \- about healing magic?"  
He didn't answer for a moment, and another two of her ribs were re-broken, him wincing almost as much as her each time they heard a crack, before he eventually murmured, "Only three more to go, then I'll start fixing them back up. Oh, and with regards to why I know about this, every curse-breaker is taught basic first-aid as part of their training, in case our team gets stuck inside a tomb or something. Sorry, only two left. I opted to take the secondary course too, better safe than sorry and all that."  
"Well, I- _ugh_ \- for one am very grate- _ow_ -ful you did."

"That's all of them." Bill sounded almost as relieved as she felt, but didn't relax his stance or lose his focus for a single moment. "Now, try and stay as still as possible while I heal them up." She did as he asked, though was unable to deny the shiver of desire she felt as his fingertips brushed lightly over her skin. "Sorry," He murmured, obviously misinterpreting her shudder, "cold hands."  
"It's fine." She breathed her reply.  
"Why did he do it?" He asked as her ribs started to click back into place, making her flinch with each snap.  
"Hmm?"  
"Why did he do this to you? I mean, there's no reason, no excuse... But what set him off this time?"  
She bit her lip, nervous all of a sudden. "He was drunk." She decided to tell him; after all, a half-truth wasn't exactly a lie, right?  
But, as always, he saw right through her, and pursed his lips as he glanced at her. "And...?" She sighed, before jumping as one of her yet-to-be-healed bones sent pain running through her chest. "Careful, try not to move." Bill reminded softly. "So why?"  
Swallowing thickly, and refusing to meet his piercing gaze, she focussed on a nearby counter and the layer of grime covering it, thinking idly that she really must clean her cottage soon. "He saw your letter." She muttered eventually. "When he saw what you wrote he assumed that we were having an affair, I suppose. But he's been possessive like this for years, anything could have sent him mad, especially when he was drunk." She added the last line when she glanced down at him and saw horrified guilt echoing throughout his face, his mouth slightly agape with shock and despair.

He tilted backwards, away from her as his hand left her bones, and faintly told her, "Your bones are fixed. And I did... I put a soothing charm there. It should be okay for a little while." His words were disjointed as he gazed unseeingly at the floor, tragic misery etched across his handsome features, seemingly deeper than the physical scars he had worn for over twenty years now. But she was having none of it, and, blessing the fact that she could now move her torso without pain, knelt before him and took his face in her hands, as if through her touch alone, she could remove the agony he felt as he had only moments earlier.  
"Bill-" She began, but he swiftly cut across her.  
"You should sleep." He started to rise, but she pulled on his shoulders until he stopped, then used a finger to rise his chin until they were face-to-face, though he still refused to look at her.  
"Bill..." She moved closer, and whether it was her breath ghosting softly over his skin or the tenderness in her voice, she would never know, but he finally raised his eyes to slowly meet hers, both glittering with unshed tears. "Don't blame yourself." She whispered.  
Guilt reared its ugly head once more as it spitefully whispered; _Yes, Bill, don't. If I hadn't avoided you, you would never have had cause to write the letter, and Ron would never have become so angry, and you wouldn't be beating yourself up right now. Then again, if I had just stopped Harry and Ginny from leaving that night, none of this would have happened anyway._

She shook her head, reminding herself that she was _not_ the one who mattered, and brought herself back to the present, only to find that Bill had moved his hands to rest over hers on his cheeks, and was regarding her with soft sincerity. "You're the one that shouldn't be blaming yourself." He told her quietly. She flinched as if he'd slapped her and immediately began to move away, only to be caught by his strong, large hands again, this time grabbing her waist. "I mean it, Hermione, you've nothing to be guilty for." She sighed and moved away from his grip, murmuring a thank you for healing her, one she certainly meant as her chest didn't scream at her for her quick movement. "Hermione," Bill called as she picked up her discarded whiskey glass and took a drink. "why do you blame yourself for their deaths? Not only Ginny and Harry, but all the others?"  
She laughed humourlessly. "I'm the 'brightest witch of my age', remember?"  
He frowned. "We spoke about this years ago; I thought you'd finally accepted that everyone's deaths weren't your fault?"

She refused to look at him as he rose from the floor and sat opposite her once more, handing him his glass silently. After a few minutes and emptying her glass, she shuddered despite the burn in her throat and spoke once more. "The nightmares came back." She couldn't hide the shaking from her voice, nor from her hand, even when Bill took it in his once more.  
"When?" He asked quietly.  
"Oh, I don't know, fourteen, fifteen years ago?" Guilt flashed through his eyes again and she finally looked up at him as the same feeling seeped through his soft voice. "So since then you've been feeling that you're to blame?"  
She shrugged, before smiling weakly, and saying, voice ringing with truth, "You've nothing to feel guilty for, Bill."  
"Nor do you."  
"Hmm."

By an unspoken agreement, they moved from the somewhat uncomfortable kitchen chairs to the infinitely more relaxing sofa in the next room. The very sofa, she couldn't help but think, that they had been making out on less than three hours ago. As if by nature, when he stretched his body, stiff from being on the floor for so long, she curled up by his side and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her tighter to him. A few moments of silence passed, he absently stroking her hair and revelling in the feeling of her in his arms, and she finding unimaginable solace in being with him once more and hearing the steady beat of his heart as her head rested against his chest. But the silence, as all silences are, was soon broken, when Bill asked a tentative question. "Ginny and Harry were killed by a drunk driver..." She nodded against his chest, confused. "...so why do you feel guilty?"

Shaking violently, and refusing to look at him, she told him the story she had told only once before, to the aurors investigating her friends' death. She told him about that one fateful night, going into such detail as to describe Ginny's dress and what the children were doing. "Crookshanks and Tyg knew." She breathed gently, tears and, to her disgust and embarrassment, wetness running from her nose, drenching Bill's shirt as she wept unashamedly. "They both knew. They even sat on Harry's feet, and bloody cuddled down on Ginny's dress. And do you know what I said? I told them to stop being silly and behave themselves. If I'd listened..." As much as she thought she should be conscious of her break-down in front of her brother-in-law, she had never felt awkward around him, and the feeling from mere hours ago overwhelmed her once more. She was safe. She was content. She was _happy_.

But at the same time, part of her wanted him to hate her, really _hate_ her. Because then it would all make sense. If Bill blamed her, her nightmares would make sense. If Bill thought her guilty, Ron's abuse would make sense. If Bill believed she was responsible for his sister's death, then that would make the awful feelings of guilt and despair she felt make sense. More than anything, however, if he _hated_ her, if he could just bloody _hate_ her, then the feelings she felt towards him would be wrong, like they _should_ be! But as he tenderly stroked her hair and wiped her tears away, murmuring softly that nothing was her fault, her love grew and she couldn't help but be selfish, carefree, and revel in his gentle comfort. It was terrifying, and blissful, and in the name of Godric was wrong, but it felt so damned _right_.

As he whispered once more that she wasn't to blame, as she turned to face his love-filled eyes, as their lips met once more in a soft kiss, tears staining their cheeks, just as they had when they had first kissed, and it felt right. "I don't want you to regret anything." Bill breathed, even as he ducked his head to bite and kiss her neck.  
"I won't." She whispered, arching her body to better accommodate his talented tongue, as he moved to the sensitive point behind her ear.  
But, all too soon for her liking, he pulled away and met her eyes, brown and blue both darkened with desire. "Hermione, you're not in your right mind at the moment."  
She smiled slightly, thought without mirth. "I haven't been in my right mind for years." She pressed her lips to his cheek lightly. "I should have thought of a way to keep you, all those years ago. Brightest witch my arse, I couldn't even think of a way to work things out so we could be together." She kissed below his eyes, where the tears were falling loosely. "I'm sorry." Her words were less than a breath, but he either heard or felt her soft apology, for he cradled her head in his hand and kissed her softly.  
"We both did what we thought was best for everyone else." He murmured.  
She nodded. "We did. But now I'm doing what's best for me. For us." She ducked her head and kissed a point on his collarbone that she knew was sensitive. "I don't want to be the 'better' person." She moved up and nuzzled his slightly stubbly jaw. "I don't want to be the 'less selfish' person." Finally, chocolate eyes boring intensely into sapphire, she moved until her lips were millimetres away from his, begging to be joined. "I don't want to be apart from you anymore. I don't want to avoid you anymore. I don't want to try to convince myself that..." She pressed her mouth, ever so lightly, against his. "That I don't love you anymore. Because I do, Bill. I love you. So much..."

At her last declaration, he slammed his mouth against hers, almost violently, as he kissed her desperately, tongue plundering her mouth as one hand wrapped into her bushy hair to keep her face close and the other wrapped around her slim waist, pulling her body flush to his. Before long, she was dragging his shirt off and running her lips along the scars on his chest, her hands rejoicing in the feeling of his defined abs and her entire body humming with anticipation at the large bulge she couldn't ignore, settled between his legs and resting on her thigh. She moaned as his mouth left hers and he swiftly pulled off her, well _his_ , sweater, and began sucking and teasing her nipple through the thin night-vest she wore, the bud and it's twin already hardened and pert from simply kissing Bill. As he dragged her vest down and latched his hot mouth against her bare skin, she cried out in desire, sure that she would have to throw out her pyjama shorts as she was so damned _wet_.

"Hermione." Bill gasped, moving back towards her face, only to be caught by her in a searing kiss. "'Mione," He tried again, pushing her back slightly and unintentionally feeling her stiff nipples against his palms, making him bite back a moan. "I want this, you know I do, but not if you're going to regret it and hate me tomorrow."  
"Bill, I want you." She said, and though she was breathless, her voice was determined. "I just want... I want _you_."  
He ran his knuckles lightly against her cheek. "If you're going to regret it, I won't do it." He told her seriously. "I love you, and you're worth more than a one night stand, and I can't stand the thought of you hating me, or hating anything we've had together."  
She nodded slowly, before untangling herself and moving towards the staircase. He buried his head in his hands, hating the thought that whatever he had said might have ruined the, albeit tentative, relationship they had established yesterday, whether it had been a friendship or more. He had ruined it.

He was surprised, therefore, when he felt a small hand wrap around his, and he looked up to find Hermione, the love of his life, smiling slightly at him, nerves etched across her features. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, and she gnawed her lip, not noticing his darkened eyes as he desperately wanted to bite that lip himself. "Um... Well..." She began nervously, before, nerves be damned (I am a Gryffindor!) she blurted, "I thought we'd be more comfortable in our bed."  
He couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock. " _Our_ bed?"  
Her cheeks reddened further and she became suddenly fascinated with the cushion to the left of Bill's head. "The, um, bed upstairs, that we used to, er, you know... Sleep in. Together. I guess I think of it as, er, ours. I mean, I don't know, it's probably stupid, you know-"  
He cut her off with a light kiss, before smiling, a slight smirk gracing his features. "So we'd be more comfortable in our bed?"  
Clearly flustered, and flushing brighter than his hair, she nodded, before mumbling, "The sofa isn't very comfortable."

He grinned, before taking her proffered hand and letting her lead him upstairs, before both stood, somewhat awkwardly, in the doorway to the main bedroom. "This is the first place I made love to you." Bill said quietly. "Do you remember?"  
She nodded. "Of course. You came out of the bathroom, and I was lying in bed, naked."  
"You'd left your clothes in a trail from the door to the bed."  
"I guess it was my way of saying I was ready." She turned to face him once more and, ever so slowly, walking backwards, she took off the sweater she had slipped back on, throwing it at her feet, a couple of meters in front of him. Never breaking eye contact, she continued her reverse journey towards the bed, slipping off her vest this time and revealing her pert breasts, dropping the garment once more in front of her. Finally, as she sat on the mattress, she slowly removed her shorts, letting them fall carelessly to the floor before her less than decent appearance became too much and she slipped beneath the sheets, hiding her naked body yet still looking at him with heated eyes.

For his part, he was desperately trying to hide his almost painful arousal, still determined to ensure that she wouldn't regret doing what he wanted _so_ badly, and when he walked over to the bed, he didn't immediately mesh their bodies together, as he would have liked to, but sat on the edge, somewhat awkwardly. Frowning and insecure, she moved to pull the covers up to hide more of her bare body, but Bill, unable to stop himself, paused her, running a finger along the line of her breasts and taking pleasure in how her eyes closed in ecstasy as he moved lower and circled his digit around her nipple. Delighted at her breathy moans, and the way her body arched towards him, he slipped under the covers and kissed her fiercely, moving his hand lower until he felt her delectably wet womanhood. He moaned openly, before moving to nip and suck at her neck, his fingers teasing her opening in a maddening way that made her keen and cry out desperately.

Finally, impatient and growling at his playful touch, she undid the button and zipper of his jeans and pushed them down his legs with her feet, grasping the erection that was straining against his boxers and rubbing it lightly through the thin fabric, grinning against his mouth as he groaned. Finally, flicking her clit gently, he slipped one finger inside her, quickly adding another at her gasp of delight. Her hands left his arousal as she scraped her nails down his chest with wanton abandon, her whole body lifting to meet his as he pressed his thumb against her small nub and curled his fingers slightly, making waves of desire shoot through her. She gasped desperately, sighing his name as his mouth latched once more around her breast, pulling the nipple with his teeth slightly. As he flicked his tongue out and pressed deeper inside her most sensitive area, one of her hands moved to grab the back of his neck, tugging his hair slightly as she gritted her teeth and hissed in pleasure, whilst her other moved to once more wrap around his erection, matching his movements and rubbing up and down in time to his finger's thrusting within her. Irritated by the material still hiding his member from her, she attempted to push his boxers down, only to be halted by him when he grabbed her hand and gave a small smirk, which only grew as he suddenly pressed against her clit again and she whimpered. Because it was all too much, with his long talented fingers and the mouth that now sucked on her neck and the way his long, hard body pressed against her and his obviously arousal as he moved against and Merlin Merlin _Merlin_ it was too much and... "Bill!"

She came suddenly, screaming his name, and convulsing beneath him, though even through her pleasure-filled haze, her lust spiked as she felt him remove his boxers and kick them away, before putting his throbbing head against her entrance. "You have to be sure." He gasped hoarsely. "Please, _please._ You have to be sure."  
She kissed him deeply, biting his lower lip slightly before pulling back. "I'm sure." She breathed, and his eyes closed in a mixture of relief and sheer desire, before he pushed forward, insanely slowly, and her mouth formed an 'o' of perfect bliss. She had forgotten how damn _big_ he was, how he filled and stretched her most intimate area, how her inner walls immediately tightened at the mere feeling of him inside her. And good Godric, it felt so perfect. He didn't move for a moment, his breathing heavy as he tried to control the urge to come immediately, the simple feeling of her wet heat pushing him almost to completion. But she needed him to move, she _needed_ him to, and so wrapped one leg around his waist to try to pull him deeper, whilst the other rested against his behind, trying to use her heel to push him forwards. Once he could breathe in less than panting desperation, he pulled almost all the way out, before slamming back into her, deep and hard, and she almost cried out at the feeling because he was thick and long and so damned _big_!

As he began to thrust in and out of her it felt as if he was deliberately trying to drive her insane, moving slow enough to make her almost scream. "Bill..." She mewled highly as she snapped her hips up to meet his and tried to drag him down quicker.  
He gave a breathy laugh and, voice quivering, murmured, "Patience is a virtue, love."  
Growling in an animalistic way, she flipped them over and, looking down at him heatedly, hissed, "Fuck virtue." She pushed herself down and let her heat surround him, both of their eyes rolling up at the heavenly feeling, before moving and beginning to ride him fiercely. They were both giving small cries of elation as their hips moved together, each thrust moving him deeper within him, before he moved slightly and crashed their mouths together, the new angle making heat build from the tight knot of desire in her lower stomach, right to the tips of her toes and the roots of her hair. He grasped the back of her neck almost violently, his eyes flashing amber and blue as if they were sapphires lit by firelight whilst hers had gone beyond their deep chocolate brown to obsidian, the seeming black broken only by shards of fierce caramel that danced and burned with passion.

The fire sparking between them grew ever stronger, as they gasped out and moaned with wild abandon, and she bit down on his lip as she felt herself hurtling closer and closer to the infinite ecstasy that only Bill could give her. And sweet Merlin, it was becoming too much again; from the almost painful way he bit her neck to their sweat-slicked bodies grinding together, from his hand palming her breast, fingers rolling the nipple enticingly, to the way that- _good Godric_ \- he now moved his torso and was hitting that that one sweet spot deep inside her, expressions feral as they fucked like two wild animals, needing the most base of pleasures imaginable to Man, needing the release that was so so _so_ close, needing-

"I love you Hermione." Bill growled in her ear, and that was it; she came with a loud cry of his name, waves upon waves of bliss washing over her as he drew her orgasm out, continuing to pound into her ruthlessly whilst his long talented fingers flicking and teasing her clit as she screamed with a pleasure that was almost too much to bear. Bill followed her over the edge and into the heavenly abyss moments later, biting down on her shoulder and coming with a muffled groan against her skin, his hot seed shooting out violently as her inner walls clamped down around him tightly, as if unwilling to ever release him from their intimate embrace.

Eventually they came down from their high and collapsed, arms wrapped around one another, both shaking slightly from the force of their orgasms. Soon after, exhaustion quickly swooped down on them, and their eyes, lids heavy, began to close of their own accord, small, satisfied smiles gracing the features as they faced once another in the dark. "Bill?" She murmured sleepily after allowing a few minutes for their breaths to come more naturally, rather than in desperate pants.  
"Mmhmm?"  
"I love you too." He grinned and pressed his lips gently against hers before they gave into the sleep that was overwhelming them, her head tucked into his neck and their hands clasped between them tightly. And as peaceful slumber took them to dreams that, for the first time in what felt like forever, were entirely peaceful, not once did it cross their minds that in their desperation to be together once more, they had forgotten to do something that could spell doom for all. For in the love filled haze that had settled over them, not only over the last few hours, but the last few _years_ , they had neglected to cast the charm that would keep a child from growing in her womb.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N** Late again, sorry... Anyhow, Crossy and Bookworm, you guys have once again brightened my whole week! Crossy; Well you know my style... I can't promise they'll be happy for long... But as the description says, she might get a Happily Ever After! Bookworm, I'm glad you like my sumt scenes, because I think they're just cringy haha. And I always love waking up to an e-mail that you've reviewed! Scherherazade, bittersweet is my middle name! And newbyrocks, I am writing and writing, whenever I have free time!

 **Disclaime** r: Nothing is mine... If it was I would be a genius but that title belongs to JKR, I just like to make her characters dance :)

And as always...

Enjoy!

 **Chapter 13**

She woke up briefly to the grey half-light of early morning pouring through the windows, and smiled sleepily as she felt Bill's arm wrapped around her waist, his naked chest against her back warming her in the chilly spring air. Rolling over so she could study his features, peaceful in his slumber, she was once more struck by how handsome Bill was. Her Bill. "What're you looking at?" He mumbled drowsily, cracking an eye open to gaze at her tenderly.  
"I thought you were asleep." She whispered back, sighing happily as he kissed her, soft lips running over hers gently.  
"Hmm..." He hummed lowly, pulling her tighter to his chest and nuzzling their noses together affectionately. "I like waking up next to you."  
She placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed her hand along his stubbly cheek slowly. "Me too." She murmured, before frowning slightly. "What's the time?"  
He grumbled incomprehensibly, and she caught brief snatches of, "... No'ven... Sunrise... Back... Sleep..." Then his eyes closed once more and his breathing deepened and she, smiling softly and burying her head in his shoulder snugly, followed him back to a sweet sleep, undisturbed by the nightmares of their pasts.

When she opened her eyes next, the sun was trying valiantly to light the world, though failing to do so very successfully, and she could see icicles hanging from the bare branches of the tree outside her bedroom. She stretched, shivering in the cool air, and moved to cuddle closer to Bill's warmth, only to find that his side of the bed was ominously empty, and freezing to touch. She sat up, wrapping the blanket and duvet around her exposed torso, and frowned, feeling somewhat disappointed and entirely upset at his absence. Her quick mind snapped into action, immediately thinking that he must have regretted their rash actions the night before, and left before she had awoken, something that made her frown sadly, feel infinitely embarrassed, and more than anything else swallowed by guilt, an emotion she was becoming increasingly familiar with. _For Merlin's sake, I slept with a married man! My bloody brother-in-law at that!_ She thought bitterly, and felt even worse when she realised that she couldn't even bring herself to regret her actions. Her guilt was entirely directed as to how Bill must feel now; clearly bad enough to leave without even saying goodbye. She'd screwed up. In Slytherin's stupid name, she'd screwed up.

As she summoned some clothes, rubbing her eyes to wipe away the sleep and increasingly-threatening tears, she took a deep breath to calm herself and- _Wait, what's that?_ Sniffing, a tentative smile flickered on her face and she followed her nose, not even bothering to put on her pyjamas and simply wrapping herself in her dressing-gown, tying the sash and taking the stairs two at a time as the smell became stronger. She poked her head around the door-frame to the kitchen, and her face broke into a full grin as she saw the source of the delicious aroma proved to be just as she expected; Bill, her Bill, was stood, as he had been countless times before, at her kitchen stove, idly whistling as a pan of bacon sizzled away in front of him. He tossed a wordless spell over his shoulder and the kettle clicked on, just as the toaster popped, and as he opened the oven to reveal some sausages whilst magically making some mushrooms cook next to the bacon, her mouth immediately began watering at the scent.

"You know," She began, smirking when he jumped in surprise at her arrival, "I've known you Weasleys for over thirty years, and I still can't get my head around seeing one of you men cooking."  
He threw a cheeky wink in her direction before quipping, "Who d'ya think taught my mum to cook?" They both laughed gaily before he tilted his head at her, smiling. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed; you looked so peaceful that I didn't want to disturb you."  
She pushed away from the wall and went to pour the boiled water into a coffee jug, pouring them both a large cup whilst he began serving their food. "I haven't slept that well in years." She told him softly, meeting his eyes with affection.  
"Me neither." They sat at the table and quickly tucked in, Hermione closing her eyes blissfully at the heavenly taste. "How are you feeling?" Bill asked after a few moments of quiet chewing. Her eyes snapped up apprehensively; was this the 'morning after' talk? However, he merely indicated to her wrist and chest. "Your bones?" He prompted.  
"Oh!" She flexed the muscles in her face and hand, touching her ribs experimentally and grinning when there were only slight pangs of discomfort. "They're infinitely better. Thank you."

He shrugged her apology off, and they finished their meals in comfortable silence, magically sending their plates to clean and leaning back comfortably with their topped up coffee. "So..." Bill started tentatively. "Last night was..."  
"Yeah." She replied simply, the guilt of what they had done coming back full-force, making her bite her lip anxiously. "Listen, I'm sorry if-"  
"You regret it." Bill sighed.  
"No! I just thought _you_ might."  
" _Me_?! Why would _I_ regret it?"  
She spluttered for a few moments, thoroughly confused, before blurting, "We're both married! And, I mean, we _cheated_ on our partners! No matter how we try to rationalise this, that's the truth. I was worried you'd feel, you know, _bad_ or something."  
He reached out to hold her hand over the table, staring sincerely into her concerned eyes. "Hermione, I told you years ago, I'll _never_ regret being with you. I meant it then, and I mean it now."  
She gnawed at her lip, before sighing heavily. "I don't regret it either, Bill, and I won't. But... Neither of us are cheaters, and I don't want us to be. This can't happen again."  
He nodded. "I know." His expression noticeably hardened. "But I'm not staying with Fleur any longer. I'm sorry, I just can't."  
She frowned. "Why are you apologising?"  
Holding his head in his hands, he murmured, "She might cause trouble with you, about Rose."  
She shrugged. "Maybe it's about time this all came out. I can't stay with Ron anymore either, so maybe now is the time to finally tell the truth. It'll be hard, but..." She groaned quietly. "Merlin, I just don't know what to do."

He stood up and took her hands, pulling her into a tight hug and rocking her gently, quietly telling her, "The first thing we do is get out of our sham marriages. Then we can move on from there."  
She nodded against his shoulder. "You're right, though we should both talk to our kids, make sure they understand things and try to make this as stress-free as possible for them."  
He hummed in agreement. "Louis and Dominique are visiting Gabrielle and their cousins at the moment, but they're coming back on Monday. I'll meet up with them and Victoire then. When are you seeing Hugo and Rosie?"  
"I was going to ask Minerva if I can take Rose out of school when I go to Hogwarts on Saturday, so I'll bring Hugo too, if he's not busy. I guess I'll take them out for lunch and... Well, ask how they would feel about Ron and I divorcing, and make sure they know that it's nothing to do with them." He nodded against the top of her head, still holding her snug to his chest. "Bill, what are we going to do about Ron and Fleur? They could make life hell for everyone." Her voice was quiet and scared, as she unconsciously rubbed her head where her husband had hurt her.  
"They could." He agreed quietly. "But we won't let them. We're stronger than they are, 'Mione, and we've put up with their threats for too long. All they can do is try to stir up trouble in our family and in the press, but they won't get away with ruining our lives any longer. I mean, what's the worst they can really do?" A shudder of foreboding ran up her spine and she moved even closer to Bill's safe warmth, dreading what was to come, yet unable to stop her smile at the thought that finally, _finally_ , she and Bill could be together. Granted, there was still a mountain to climb, and much more stress and grief to be had, but the sooner she got away from Ron, the happier she'd be.  
As she pressed her ear against the steady thumping of his heart, she dispelled the grimly prophetic words he had spoken from her mind, and smiled. "You're right. What's the worst they can do?"

They stood there, enjoying each others presence, for a good ten minutes before pulling away, feeling as if it was much too soon. "What are you going to do until Saturday?" Bill asked as he followed her upstairs to dress for the day.  
She shrugged. "Stay here, I guess. I'll do a shop after work today for kneazle food and owl treats, and any other things I need, so I shouldn't need to go back to the house or see Ron at all."  
"Won't you see him at work?" Bill asked, concern evident in his tone.  
She could understand his worry as to get to her office on floor two she had to walk straight through the auror offices, but she simply smiled as she pulled her days outfit from her wardrobe. "There are some advantages to being in senior management." She said, smirking. "The Department of Mysteries have been asking for my help with something for quite some time now; I'll lock myself away down there until things calm down and I'm sure he won't cause a scene or anything worse." Bill still looked uncertain, so she gave him a radiant smile. "It'll be fine. What's the worst he can do, right?" He nodded, looking slightly placated, before respectfully turning his back as she slipped off her dressing gown. Well, as respectfully as he could when he knew the main reason he looked away was that one look at her bare body and, cheating be damned, he'd take her back to bed and not leave for at least a day. Or week. Or year.

When she was decent and he'd cast a quick cleaning charm over his clothes from yesterday, they retreated back to the living room, where she asked, "What about you?"  
His concentration had been entirely devoted to _not_ watching the way her black top dipped to reveal the most teasingly tantalising glimpse of her cleavage, and so it took an amused Hermione calling his name and waving her hand in front of his eyes to rouse him. "Sorry, what?" He said, jumping and flushing red. Clearly trying not to laugh, she repeated her question, confusing him further. "What about me?"  
"What are you going to do until you have a chance to talk to your kids?"  
Now it was his turn to shrug. "Go back to Shell Cottage. Fleur wasn't there last night so I guess she's in France again, thank Merlin."  
"You could stay here, if you want to." She murmured softly, noting the darkening of his eyes and feeling a treacherously pleasant tightening in her lower abdomen.  
"Don't tempt me." He replied hoarsely, his voice made rough and low as memories of the previous night swam through his mind. "It wouldn't be right. What you said before... Well, I don't want either of us to be cheaters, I don't want what we have to be tainted by us sneaking around. And if I stay here..." He trailed off, but she nodded in understanding, caught between relief that the temptation of having him stay wouldn't be something she had to fight, and selfish disappointment that she wouldn't have a chance to give in to said temptation as they had the previous night.

"Do you know what I _do_ want?" Bill asked after a while, before giving a small smile, eyes twinkling at her. "I want to ask you out on a date, when we're both single again."  
She laughed openly. "Don't you think we're past the dating stage by now?"  
His grin grew as he took her hand and kissed the back of it gently. "A beautiful woman such as yourself deserves to be romanced." He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered huskily, "And _then_ I'll take you to bed and devour you." A shiver of raw desire passed through her and, as he moved back and their eyes locked, she saw that his had sharp flecks of amber sparking in them. However, obviously remembering their agreement to keep things decidedly PG, he merely ghosted his lips over her cheek and pulled back, plastering a strained smile on his face. "I'd best get going, or the goblins will have my head. I hope you have a good day and... I guess I'll see you soon." He gave a small, awkward wave, before heading to the fireplace, and Hermione blinked a few times, somewhat surprised by the abrupt and unsatisfactory farewell.  
Before she could change her mind and listen to reason, she found herself calling, "Bill?" He turned questioningly to look at her, only to find that she was strolling towards him with determination, a fierce look in her eyes. With quick reflexes, he caught her as she launched herself at him, and immediately, with a passion that still surprised them, they crashed their mouths together in a fierce kiss, her legs moving to wrap around his waist and hands fisting in one another's hair. When finally their tangling tongues separated and they pulled away, he slipped his hands to rest below her thighs, holding and keeping her close whilst she touched her forehead to his. "I love you." She breathed. "I love you so much."

He gave her a chaste kiss before sighing and releasing her, letting her slide down his body until she stood on her own feet, and once more had to look up at him. She refused, however, to meet his gaze and instead blushed furiously. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I-"  
"Hermione." Bill's voice was gravelly and he seemed to be in pain, making her snap her gaze to his. "Don't apologise. That was..." Giving a shuddering breath, he ran his fingers through his hair and gave a weak smile. "That was amazing. Just... Don't tempt me."  
Frowning, she blinked with confusion, the action making her notice... "Oh!" She squeaked, the lump in the front of his jeans obvious as his erection strained to be released. Smirking slightly as she revelled in the fact that she was able to arouse him so much from a single kiss, she took his hand gently. "Kind of reminds you of when we first started seeing each other, doesn't it?"  
He nodded, giving a chuckle. "You were so worried that I'd judge you for being a virgin."  
Swatting his arm playfully, she teased back, "Well you were worried I'd judge you because of your scars, so I guess we're even." She ran a finger along the longest of the scars on his face and smiled when he leaned into her touch, before sighing and stepping back, much more satisfied with their goodbye but all too aware that if he remained for much longer he wouldn't be leaving for a day. Or week. Or year.

"You should go." She murmured quietly. "I rather like you as you are, and if the goblins take your head off I'll be _very_ angry."  
He nodded and once more headed to the fireplace, grabbing some floo powder but pausing before he threw it in. "Hey, 'Mione?"  
"Yeah?"  
He gave a brilliant smile that made her knees melt. "I love you too. Gringotts, London!" With that he was gone in a flash of green, and she couldn't help the small smile that seemed determined to remain on her face, even as she shook her head at Bill's antics. Her Bill.  
Refusing point blank to let guilt ruin what had, on the whole, been a pleasant morning, she quickly checked her wards a final time before following him through the fire, calling, "The Ministry of Magic, London."

Given her habit of arriving at least an hour early for work, it was a surprise when she stepped out of the floo to a packed Atrium, and the 'fans' that immediately flocked her served as a stark reminder as to why, even twenty years after the end of the War, she avoided crowds. She had done a fair job of avoiding her 'adoring public' in the time since Harry and Ginny's funeral but now, blind-sided and frozen by the unexpected attention, the group of witches and wizards took no time before beginning to offer their condolences for her loss. The mass of people were all clamouring for her attention, calling out to her and weeping, attempting to shake her hand or cry on her shoulder, and one man even had the audacity to run forward and kiss her square on the lips, much to the delight of the reporters that had quickly conglomerated. Eyes wide and terrified adrenaline pumping through her veins, there was nothing more that she wanted than to whip out her wand, cast a monumental shield charm, and either run for her life or hex everyone in sight. It was the War all over again.

As the tension within her was at breaking point, the security of the Ministry ran forward and started forcing the crowd away from her, and a small arm wrapped around her shoulders and led her towards the lifts quickly. She followed blindly, only pausing when her breath was coming easier and her mind had calmed somewhat. "Hold on." She muttered to her companion, before pointing her wand behind her and sending a wordless spell of her own creation out. The charm, which she had designed shortly after the end of the War when the paparazzi had been at their height of irritation, was designed to subtly destroy the inside of cameras, though in her distress, she managed to effectively blow them up, and an acrid smell of smoke followed a small boom at the other end of the hall.

She and her saviour reached the lifts and, due to the commotion caused by her arrival and the flocks of people rushing to see what had exploded, found a mercifully empty lift fairly swiftly. As the view of the Atrium flew quickly away, Hermione rested her hands on her knees and bent over, willing her heart to stop pounding. "That's a very useful charm." Her companion commented in a light voice. A light voice she was sure she recognised.  
"It's a mixture of the bombarda spell and- hold on!" As her eyes lifted to reach what appeared to be a luminous pink shrivelled ear, hanging from an incredibly normal _human_ ear, she cried out in recognition. "Luna!"  
"Hello Hermione, that was quite a dramatic entrance."  
"It wasn't deliberate." She grumbled, before her face split into a wide grin and she grabbed the younger woman into a tight embrace. "It's so good to see you Luna, I didn't even know you were back!"  
The blonde looked, as per usual, as if she was living in a different world, but gave her a warm hug in return, and Hermione couldn't even bring herself to worry about whether the strange earrings currently bouncing against her neck were dangerous or not.

Now, Hermione prided herself on not being overly shallow or image-obsessed, but even she was somewhat surprised at her friend's attire. The matching earring to her shrivelled ear set was, rather than pink, a dramatic azure, and hanging from her neck was, to complete the set, a small, wrinkled foot that was orange with purple polka dots. However, when one was friends with Luna Lovegood, one expected such things. Just as one would expect the headband with golden snitch bobble-tops and the monocle that enlarged her silvery iris and coloured the white of her eye bright green. However, even given their many years of friendship, Hermione had not expected Luna to arrive at the Ministry of Magic in what appeared to be a green and yellow scaled onesie. She somewhat resembled a human trapped within a large snake, an odd effect only emphasised by the orbs bouncing atop her head, as if an unfortunate golden snail had taken home within her hair moments before her body was swallowed. _Well, at least her headband matches her outfit..._ Hermione thought, biting back a laugh.

"Yes," Luna said in her dreamy voice, snapping her out of her reverie, "Rolf and I returned earlier this morning. I have to drop off the Half-Headed Insolitus we found immediately; they're really quite dangerous, if you don't protect yourself."  
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"  
"Yes... They like to release their spores into the air and make boils appear everywhere. That's why I want to drop it off quickly, though I'll have to warn the Ministry of their second head." Luna nodded seriously, and she had to school her features into something other than incredulity and amusement.  
"Their second head?" She asked, trying to sound polite. Luna explained that the second head, where the poison was released from, was located behind the left knee on their third leg (when counting from the right of course) and Hermione smiled slightly at her friend's strange antics. "And how do you protect yourself from them?" She asked.  
The younger woman indicated to herself and gave a grave frown. "Snakes are their natural enemy, so wearing their scales stops them from attacking." Her whole expression brightened. "But don't worry, Hermione, I'm carrying them so as long as you're with me you should be fine! And even if you do break out in boils, all you need to do is spread gillywater, parsnip and basil paste over them and they'll be gone."  
She nodded somewhat dumbly, before frowning. "Wait, it's with you? Where?"  
"Them," Luna corrected gently, "and they're in here!" She started rooting around in the money-belt around her waist and produced a tiny animal cage, resembling one used for a dog or cat, but small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. "We managed to catch seventeen of them, just by putting some blackberries out. They love berries, you know; they might be ten feet long but one berry is enough to fill them for three days."  
She blinked in shock, not at the thought that so many creatures could be in the container, but at the container itself. "You still use that?" She blurted, eyes flicking up to look into Luna's, both magnified and normal.  
The blonde smiled. "Of course. It's one of the nicest gifts anyone has ever given me."

She flushed red and felt unexpected tears well in her eyes suddenly, as she hugged her friend once more. The small barred box was designed to shrink and expand at the owners choice, though the creator had adapted what was, in essence, a very simple charm, to affect everything inside the cage, including almost all magical animals. Everything from the Impedimenta to Patronus charms had been weaved into its making, so it could even hold a dragon, which was renowned for being immune to most magic. A Dementor would be rendered helpless, if for any reason Luna wanted to catch one, and Merlin help a Boggart if it was confined within. For the more peaceful animals, it was designed to represent their natural habitats, from mountains to forests to deep seas. Hermione knew this as, over fifteen years ago, when her curious friend had first begun searching magical creatures with her husband, she had made the cage herself, to try to keep Mrs Scamander safe and ease her troubles regarding transport. However, she had no idea that her friend was still using it, and given the vast amount of equipment in the wizarding world designed for her career, the knowledge that she continued to place her trust in such an old present touched her heart.

"It's lucky, you know." Luna stated suddenly.  
Hermione peered at her curiously. "What is?" Luna pointed to the box in her palm, and Hermione frowned. "The Half-Headed Insolitus things are lucky?"  
Luna laughed then tilted her head to the side, smiling mildly. "No, where they live is lucky. I like to call it their home." She pointed once more to her hand. "The present you got me is brilliant, I can't imagine using anything else. Besides, it reminds me of you, Hermione. I like to imagine you're thinking of me."  
She blinked back her tears. "Of course I think of you, Luna, all the time."  
"That's nice." Luna tucked her cage back in the bag around her hips and turned to face her again. "Why did all the reporters want to speak to you?"  
Used to Luna's random subject changes, but unable to give a suitable answer, she shrugged. "I guess they wanted to talk about Harry and Ginny."  
Both of their faces and spirits fell at the reminder, but her companion was not one to be miserable for too long. "That's sad; it's been months but... I suppose it's good in a way, that they'll always be remembered."  
She sighed heavily. "I suppose... But it's not really in the right way, is it? I mean, no one who mattered to Harry and Gin will ever be able to get over their death."

Luna stared at her for a few moments before speaking. "We can either choose to live solely in our memories and be forever trapped in misery and death, or choose to move on and respect the legacy of those we've lost by living the happy lives they wanted us to have. We don't have to forget anyone, but it's like you said at their funeral; the best way we can honour them is to live like they did for those years after the war. Happily." Hermione, now uncaring that tears were once more streaming from her eyes, opened her mouth to claim that she _was_ happy(ish), but Luna suddenly became unusually angry. " _Don't_ Hermione." She snapped. "I _know_ what people say about 'Looney Lovegood; they've said it for years, but that doesn't mean that I'm an idiot. Because I also _know_ that you are _not_ happy."

She turned her head away and wept openly, hearing Luna sigh and place a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry." The blonde said quietly. "But I think you needed to hear that."  
Wiping her tears away and turning, she gave a wobbly smile. "I did. Thank you, Luna."  
Luna gave her stereotypically dreamy look, though it was transformed by her watery eyes, her friend smiled. "I just want you to be happy Hermione. It's what Harry and Ginny would've wanted too."  
"I will be soon, I hope."  
"Don't hope. Make it so you are."  
She nodded, knowing that the blonde's under-appreciated wisdom had shown itself in its full force, and gave a weak smile. "Thank you Luna, really."  
Luna gave her dreamy look. "I like to think we're friends, and what are friends for?"  
Hermione gave a bark of laughter, before once more hugging her. "Of course we're friends Luna. I've missed you, you know."  
Luna grinned. "I've missed you too." The lift groaned to a halt on the floor which included the Magical Creatures department, Hermione's past source of employment. "I hope to see you soon, Hermione. I've been invited to the Burrow on Sunday, will you be there?"

Her heart seemed to stop for a few moments; due to Ron's, well, 'issues' recently, they had both neglected to go to most of the traditional Sunday meals at the Weasley family home. Though she missed the other members of her family-in-law, the idea of being there, in the place where Ron had grown up, whilst possibly (and dare she say, _hopefully_ ) on the way to a divorce with said man, sent a chill up her spine. How would the Weasleys react? Would she still be considered a surrogate daughter? The implications of her choice to leave Ron came down on her tenfold, and it was only a quarter past nine. What of her children? Rose and Hugo, who adored Molly, Arthur and their Uncles; would they still be considered family if Ron did as he had threatened to?

Luna, who had stepped out of the lift, gave her a small smile. "Be happy, Hermione. Things will work out in the end. I imagine I'll see you on Sunday. Just... Stay strong, no matter what. Things will end badly if you don't." She walked away, and as the grills slid shut Hermione wondered if she'd mastered legilimancy. Smiling a small, sad smile, she pressed the button for her own floor and, though she felt foolish doing so, cast a disillionment charm over herself when an aged woman entered the lift at the next floor, glancing at her and giving the customary British, 'Good morning.' She had to stifle a laugh when the woman did a double take as her mind caught up to her eyes and told her that yes, it was _the_ Hermione Granger that she had seen, only to turn and find herself alone in the lift, mouth opening and closing dumbly as she circled on the spot as if expecting to find her moulded to the wall.

When the lift juddered to a halt at her floor, she slipped silently past the woman, unable to stop herself from whispering a goodbye in her ear, and grinning as she jumped in shock. Quickly, however, her mirth was dampened, as she rounded the corner and was met with the large polished sign stating; The Auror Department. A cold shiver ran up her spine and she consciously re-checked the charm that kept her invisible, dread running like ice through her veins as she accepted what she had been attempting to avoid for the last few hours; this might very well be the first time she would see Ron since seeing the children off. And she was terrified.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N** Surprise! It's been ages, I know, and I'm sorry! Technology hating me and Real Life rearing it's ugly head again left me with a bad case of writers block... I know that's little excuse, but I am seriously sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long. Luckily though, with a lot of kind messages from you lovely readers (Crossy your one-shot will be here in the new year :)) and support from home, I smashed through that writers block and am back! And as a thank you for your patience, I should be uploading a chapter a day on this story, finishing (with luck) on New Years Eve!

Thank you all so much once again for the support, it's been really nice knowing that you've stuck around, and I really hope that you're not disappointed now that we're back! And, as always, enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I may have been gone for months, but I didn't transfigure, so all recognisable things belong to JKR.

 **Chapter 14**

Hermione almost felt as if she could feel his fist against her nose as she strode through the double doors to the Auror offices, feigning a confidence in her footsteps that she certainly didn't feel in her heart, and strolling at a rather quicker pace than usual. In fact, if anyone could have seen her at that point, they might have even said that she was jogging. But, to her relief, when she waved her hand in front of her face, her disillionment charm was still very much in place, and all she could see were the multiple cubicles in front of her. She rubbed her newly-healed ribs absently, grimacing as she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart whilst simultaneously berating herself for feeling the need to hide in her own workplace. Her charm stuttered as anger washed through her- what in Merlin's name was going on with her magic at the moment?- and she was half-certain that a few trainees saw her, and could've sworn on Dobby's name that the few office owls used for outside contact were staring at her. As quickly as she could, she calmed herself, and deliberately slowed her footsteps and breathed deeply, keeping an image of Bill in her head, and imagining that, even now, he was kneading the knots from her shoulders as she lay against his chest.

She kept the thought of him at the forefront of her mind and almost managed a smile, before her eyes were drawn to where Neville used to work, to look at a young woman who was now sat in his old seat, an expression of absolute consternation on her face. Clearly the new auror was channelling her friend's spirit, as even while Hermione watched on, the stranger, thoroughly enveloped in the large pile of parchment before her and with a rather sweet frown of concentration between her brows, promptly knocked over her coffee with her elbow, spilling the liquid over her desk and work. The poor woman gave a shriek of horror before grabbing her papers and waving them desperately, moaning as the ink ran, ruining whatever she was working on. Hermione, taking pity on the poor girl, waved her wand and cast a silent spell, managing a small smile when the woman gasped, then whooped in joy when her parchment was suddenly cleaned and good as new.

She, telling her feet to keep calm and carry on, left the area of the new employee's cubicle, striding past Dean Thomas' alcove, where he was involved in an intense discussion with his old room-mate Seamus (who, suitably, now worked in the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad), regarding the pros and cons of their everlasting debate. One that, even after thirty years, never seemed to tire them; Quidditch versus football. Personally, if she had to choose a sport over her books, Hermione had always preferred rugby. However, giving an invisible yet amused glance towards the pair, she continued, trying to force her humour to remain with her.

Once more, the smile was wiped from her face as if stinksap had been poured over her. Her office was located, unfortunately, past the head Aurors offices. Merlin's beard, in fact, Merlin's saggy left... What if Ron was sat at his desk, or even in her office, waiting for her? What would she do? Of course, she would love more than anything to slap him in his stupid face, but in reality...

 _I am Hermione Granger I am Hermione Granger I am not afraid not afraid I am Hermione Granger!_ She strolled forwards, shoulders braced and head held high, past Harry's old office, left abandoned in his honour, excepting various pictures of him, other lost friends and family, and even a small tribute to Dobby, consisting of a small house-elf figure made entirely out of socks. She glanced in the new Head of Department's office, run, much to Ron's chagrin, not by him but by an older, more experienced Auror, before finally halting in the doorway to the deputy head's room. Her husband's nameplate stared back at her, but all she seemed able to focus on was the mess in front of her.

It seemed she needn't have worried about Ron being at work, because by the look of his desk, he hadn't been in for at least a week. Reports and forms teetered in high stacks four deep on his desk, with old coffee cups littered between, many of them clearly days old and untended. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she accidentally sniffed the air, and a foul mixture of stale alcohol and- wait... Was that...? She tentatively followed the stench before gagging as she lifted a sheet of parchment to find an old, rotting sandwich crawling with maggots beneath. And next to it was a lump that should _definitely_ not be moving. Backing away swiftly she turned her back, physically and mentally, on her husband's room, and strode through to her office, feeling as though she hadn't been there for decades.

A few years ago, Ron had had an issue with her new co-worker Stuart, and he had 'mysteriously' quit after just a few years in the department. At the time, she hadn't had the energy to question it, but now, she sighed sadly; disorganised and at times plain messy, Stuart had still been a decent friend and a good worker. Following his departure, she and her boss and old friend Jo had interviewed what seemed like hundreds of candidates, both from within the ministry and out, but simply weeding through the people who wanted to work in the same office as the legendary Hermione Granger had proven to be a nearly month-long challenge. They had eventually settled on two people, rather than the standard one; a middle-aged man who had spent his whole life in Magical Law Enforcement and had had quite enough of blindly following orders, and a young Hogwarts alumni who had graduated a year before they hired her with near perfect NEWTs and a passion to help the world. The two bounced well off each other; she had the sometimes delusional passion that Hermione used to possess for things like S.P.E.W which he toned down with his inbuilt cynicism and she, in turn, forcibly inspired him when he became too hopeless.

She smiled at their bickering as she walked past their office, her old one, to the one she now shared with Jo. Following the Department becoming bigger and her old boss's retirement, she officially became Deputy Head, and she couldn't deny that she enjoyed sharing an office with her friend again, especially on days like this where she needed the quiet understanding that could only be garnered from working together for years. That being said, she had been absent for a fair few days with no word, and so she could hardly blame Jo for squealing in delight when she walked through the door.

"Hermione! It's so good to see you again!" She gushed, grinning and hugging her swiftly before her expression became concerned. "How are you feeling?"  
She felt a genuine smile pull at her lips. "Much better now, thanks. I'm not one hundred percent okay, but I will be soon."  
If Jo heard the underlying depth beneath her words, she didn't comment on it, and merely smiled softly. "I'm glad."  
She smiled back, before making her voice brusque. "So, what have I missed, what needs doing and where do you want me to start?"  
Jo laughed. "Some things never change, Mrs Workaholic! And actually, you've chosen a good day to come back, I was going to call a meeting this morning. We've had a message from..." She trailed off uncomfortably. "Well from another department." Hermione shrugged and indicated for her to continue, smiling as the other two came in following Jo's loud, "You two! Get in here!"

"Hermione!" The man called in some surprise. "I hope your being here means you're better?"  
"Much better, thank you Blaise." She smiled back at her old Slytherin classmate. He had been openly shocked when she had chosen him for the job, as had Jo, but as she had said, school rivalries were rarely worth holding onto, and nor were the prejudices that had pitted one house against another for millennia. After all, her own daughter had been sorted into Slytherin and, though she had never told anyone, the Sorting Hat had considered her for the house of snakes, and had she not been a muggle-born in the time where they were most hated, she may have ended up there. Besides, she remembered noticing Blaise's intelligence, even in a time when she had stubbornly not wanted to. Their first few months working together had, predictably, been awkward, with little more than cool acknowledgements of 'Granger' and 'Zabini' constituting their conversations outside of work topics. However, after a few jokingly ironic quips, many intellectually stimulating debates, and Hermione's open acceptance of having none other than Draco Malfoy weigh in on some decisions regarding taxing the rich, they had become somewhat akin to friends. Neither would ever admit it of course, but the slight crease of concern between his brows right now was enough to belie his cool demeanour.

In contrast, his co-worker, Jenny, was the opposite to his carefully placed Slytherin persona. A Hufflepuff in every sense of the stereotype (excluding the rather rude concept that they were unintelligent) she was bubbly, bright and willing to be a friend to most anyone. Both she and Jo had found the young woman a little alarming at first, but when, during her interview, she had begun a half-hour long tirade regarding the lack of communication between the British Ministry and the others across the world, pulling facts and figures from seemingly nowhere (though both had checked them after and all were correct), they knew they had found someone worth keeping. Combined with Blaise's cold (sometimes too cold) logic, they made an exceptional team. That didn't mean, however, that they always got along, as shown now, when Jenny ran up to hug Hermione, making Blaise roll his eyes disapprovingly.

"You're back!" Jenny cried. "We've all been so worried! Even Mr So-far-up-his-arse-he-"  
"Thanks, Jen." Hermione cut off, seeing the argument waiting to happen as the young woman narrowed her eyes at Blaise. "I'm much better now."  
"I'm glad. Now you can solve our argument!" Once more her attention was on Blaise, who scowled.  
"It's not an argument, it's a discussion." He told her smoothly.  
"A debate then!" She frowned back.

Hermione and Jo shared an eye-roll; they had an on-going bet on how long it would take the two of them to start dating; they already argued like a married couple and few people could go on argue/discuss/debating with such passion without having a different kind of passion evolving, so it seemed to be only a matter of time. Everyone, apart from them of course, thought that they would be a good couple; not sweet, not outwardly romantic, and certainly not average, but good all the same. Hermione secretly thought they would be nothing short of great. Thinking of the passion she and Bill shared and then looking at the secret tenderness hiding in Jenny and Blaise's eyes made her have to stifle a grin.

"I'm not going to solve any argument, discussion or debate between the two of you." She said swiftly, trying desperately to not smile. "I'm sure you two can work it out."  
Jenny frowned before shrugging in acceptance, but she noticed Blaise lean down and whisper, "It's still a discussion."  
Jo, wisely, spoke up before Jen could reply, saying, "If we could get back to work now?" Both looked suitably abashed, but Hermione, leaning against her desk, could see the almost Dumbledore-esque twinkle of amusement in her friend's eyes. It was quickly dampened, however, as she became business-like. "We've had a message from Avalon; they need one of us down there to do some work regarding... Well, obviously I don't know yet." All eyebrows rose; the mythical, or not so mythical, island of Avalon had not been in contact for centuries. "Obviously," Jo continued, looking rather ill, "I'll do it, I wouldn't expect any of you to, so Hermione will be in charge while I'm gone."

"I'll do it." Hermione said with a shrug when she had finished.  
Jo smiled at her. "Thank you. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but there are a few things on my desk-"  
"No, you misunderstand." She interrupted. The others may be uncertain about the mystical isle, but the isolation was exactly what she wanted. "I'll go to Avalon and do whatever needs to be done there. I don't mind, really."  
Every gaze turned to her as she smiled nonchalantly. "Thanks for the offer, 'Mione," Jo began slowly, "but I'm Head of Department, it's my responsibility."  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Your job is to make sure this Department is running smoothly."  
"And you can do that just as well as I can." She countered quickly.  
"No I can't. I've been gone for a few days, so I have no idea what you're working on at the moment."

She wasn't lying and they all knew it; though some of the projects that came through their department could take weeks, even months, to pick through, the average length of time before they were either approved, denied or sent to another department was between three days to a week. All, however, seemed unconvinced by her logic, and she sighed. "Look, I'm much better off starting a new project on my own, rather than trying to learn what's going on with however many things you have going on."  
"But it's Avalon! No-one even knows what happens there!" Jenny stated bluntly, as though that discounted everything she had said.  
She merely shrugged. "I broke into the Department of Mysteries in my fifth year and survived, I'm not afraid."  
"Stupid Gryffindor." Blaise muttered, and for once the others didn't disagree.

Avalon had, of course, many mysteries surrounding it, as the witches and wizards who dwelled there rarely contacted the outer world, but she was far less afraid of the unknown than she was of her husband. Also, being Muggle-born, she had grown up with fantastic myths and legends about the great King Arthur, and there was a selfish thrill running through her to see the place. She could ask the people of the island how many of the stories were true! She could ask if the Lady of the Lake was a mermaid. She could ask if Merlin _actually_ helped the legendary man fight off the Romans. More than anything though, she could leave, to a place she couldn't be found, for at least a fortnight.

"It makes more sense for me to go." She said directly to Jo.  
She regarded her for a few moments before sighing. "It's my responsibility." But the resigned look on her face let Hermione knew she had won.  
"I'll be careful." She said in a quieter voice, reassuring the three who were looking at her in concern. "I know the dangers of being too curious, so I'll do what I'm told then come back."  
"You'd better." Jo replied fiercely, as Jenny nodded and Blaise glared at her.  
"I will."

"Guess I better get the papers ready then." She mumbled miserably, though Hermione could sense the guilty relief in the room that she would be the one to go.  
"I'll get us a coffee." She said, resting her hand on Jo's shoulder as she slumped at her desk and the others left, sighing. "And thank you."  
The older woman frowned at her. "Thank me?! For all I know, I might very well be sending you to your death! Why the heck are you-" Their eyes locked and, whatever Jo saw there, she cut herself off and tilted her head in confusion. "Why do you want to go there?" She asked softly.  
Hermione blinked sadly. "Because there's danger here looking for me. At least down there, it isn't actively targeting me."  
"'Mione..." She sighed and grasped her hand. "You know that if I can help, in any way, I will."  
"I know." She squeezed her hand back. "I'll sign those papers after I've got coffee. Or would you prefer tea?"

Jo nodded in resigned acceptance. "Coffee, please." Hermione had almost made it through the door before her boss called after her, "How are things with Ron? His Department have been complaining that he's not been in for a while, and when he has been, he hasn't been himself. He's been..." She waited until Hermione had turned to face her again before finishing her sentence. "'Unstable'. That's the word they used."  
She grimaced. "Well if the Auror department thinks that, that's their responsibility."  
"And Ron?"  
"He's his own person, not my responsibility."  
Jo studied her in a way that made her feel like a schoolchild being observed by Dumbledore or Profes- _Minerva_ \- again. After a few moments silence, she nodded slowly. "I'd best get those papers." Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to leave once more, but as she exited the room, heard Jo's quiet voice saying, "If you ever need to talk, or anything, I'm here for you."

Hearing Ron hadn't been working well had not been a surprise to her, and she may have had a chance to fall back into the black thoughts of fear and hopelessness that thoughts of her husband now sent her to, had it not been for Blaise swiftly cutting off her path to the coffee machine. Sighing, she placed her hands on her hips and looked at him sharply, using her best bossy voice. "Shouldn't you be working?"  
He gave a smooth, clever smile. "I was just going to get a latte for Jen."  
She smiled slyly. "How kind of you... I'm sure she appreciates how much you care for her."  
Scowling, he fell into step beside her. "Shut up."  
"I meant her hydration levels, of course!" She said quickly, shooting a grin in his direction, but unfortunately for her, her teasing didn't work.

"Do you have a death wish?" He asked bluntly.  
"Not that I'm aware of." Her reply was smooth; she had expected this from the man who would never admit that he cared for anyone, yet had one of the kindest hearts she'd ever encountered. He had even helped push S.P.E.W forward, and argued with old friend Malfoy about taxing the poor as much as the rich.  
"You seem to have one." He said with a slight, irritated bite to his voice.  
She laughed, making his scowl darken. "You are definitely not the first person to tell me that!"  
"Maybe you should listen for once."  
"Sometimes what people view to be death wishes are actually-"  
"This is different to the War." He stated darkly, and an uneasy silence fell between them. Though Blaise hadn't officially taken any side, they both knew what side he would've been forced into, had things turned out differently. He had once, in absolute confidence, whispered to her that he was glad her side had won, and regretted the loss they'd suffered, but that was the only reference either had made to their troubled past.

They reached the coffee maker and, after he indicated for her to go first, she started the Muggle machine; though the others had been incredulous when she had first brought the thing into work, they had quickly fallen in love with it, even ex-Muggle-hating Blaise, who could now not function without his morning capp. It had taken a fair amount of work to set up the spells to imitate the electrical current, but as Hermione smelt the espresso pouring out, she knew it was worth it.

"Why did you offer to go to Avalon?" Blaise asked suddenly.  
She shrugged, not looking at him. "It makes more sense for me to go, rather than Jo."  
Blaise, however, was not stupid. "You offered almost immediately. You've been planning something like this."  
Once more, she raised her shoulders in a 'whatever' fashion. "It makes more sense, and I'm not afraid. In fact, I'm really rather curious about it."  
He leant against the wall, gazing at her with dark eyes. "Nobody knows anything about that place.."  
"I know."  
"The people who have come back, have come back with their memories wiped. But there are people who haven't come back at all."  
"I know, but I will come back."  
She was done making her and Jo's coffee so stepped aside and began to walk away, but once more, Blaise cut her off. "Why do you want to go there?"  
She plastered a bemused smile on her face, knowing that he'd most likely be able to see through it but trying anyway. "Who said I wanted to? It's simply logical for me to."  
Leaving the machine chugging away, he scowled. "Don't give me that bullshit. It's clear you wanted to." She smiled at him and continued to walk her away, but froze when, for the second time that day, she was asked, "How's Ron?"

 _Goddamn it, I try to not bloody think of him but everyone wants to bloody know._ "I'm not his keeper, ask him yourself." She called without turning, in a cold voice she hadn't used towards him since their Hogwarts years.  
"I didn't mean how his health is. I meant how is he... Treating you?"  
Turning, her face was ice but her eyes fire, and he flinched slightly. "And since when is my marital life any of your business?"  
She knew, inwardly, that she wasn't angry at him, despite the bite in her voice, and he seemed to know too. Though most would shy away from Hermione Granger when she got 'that' look in her eyes, he merely moved forward and, in a move that would've shocked anyone, hugged her tightly. When he had pulled back they both shuffled awkwardly, before she murmured that she should take Jo her coffee and he agreed that he should finish up his and Jenny's drinks. As she walked away though, she could've sworn she heard him say, "I've met the other Weasleys, they all seem okay. Ron though... I've never liked him." She put it down to her imagination, but just as she was about to re-enter her and Jo's office, he called, "I'd love to have you round, if you ever need a place to... You know... Get away." She turned to face him with a slight frown; he simply looked embarrassed. "I don't mean as in, you know, something dodgy... It's just I have a spare room so... You know."

Giving him a radiant smile, she briefly thought; _here is a Slytherin, perhaps an ex-Death Eater in the making, offering me a room._ "Thanks." She called back. "But I have a place. I'll leave the dodginess to you."  
Both laughed loudly, and though his was swiftly cut off, hers simply increased as Jenny stuck her head out of their office door and asked, "What dodginess, Blaise?"

Leaving them to deal with the inevitable argument/discussion/debate, she went back to her own room and handed Jo her coffee, still chuckling. "What's funny?" She asked lightly.  
"Just Mr and Mrs Zabini." She replied lightly.  
Jo groaned. "Am I going to have to hear them argue all day again?"  
"I doubt it. Blaise and I were talking about 'dodgy' things, so he'll probably just spend the rest of the day convincing her he's not doing anything with anyone."  
She blinked a few times, evidently debating whether to ask Hermione about why she and Blaise were talking about dodgy activities in the first place, before shrugging. "My bet's still on them getting together at Christmas this year."  
Hermione grinned. "No way, Blaise's birthday is in September; I reckon Jenny will have had enough of dancing around by then."  
Jo smirked. "Ten galleons still?"  
"Of course!"

Silence enveloped the pair for a few moments, as Jo scribbled away and Hermione sipped her coffee contemplatively; it seemed odd to her that she could have these moments of frivolity, as if she'd forgotten that there was a world outside of the hell-hole that was her marriage. But there life was, like a breath of fresh air or the first inhalation after being underwater.  
"So," Jo suddenly said, making Hermione jump, "if you're still sure about going, I mean I-"  
"I'm sure."  
"Well, it'll be at least a week until you can go." Hermione stifled a sigh, but Jo's quick eyes picked it up. "I thought you would be relieved."  
"You know me," She replied with false cheer, "I just like to get on with things!" Before her boss could reply, a memo flew in, the Minister's seal on it, and landed in front of her gracefully. "Excuse me a moment." She speed-read the missive, her frown deepening as she did so; why on Earth had they sent her this? It was a simple enough note, expressing gratitude that she had returned to work, and reminding her that under Article 37 of the Ministry Employee's Agreement, she had been paid the mandatory sick-pay for her days off. But she already knew all this, and she was fairly sure that Kingsley didn't send personal messages to each member of staff after they'd been ill. However, when she finally reached the end of the long list of awards following Shacklebolt's name, the true meaning of the memo became clear. Scrawled at the bottom in a neat, precise hand, were the words;

 _We need to talk. -P_

She sighed. Of course it was Percy, who else could it be? Scrunching her face up slightly, she pushed the note to the side and leant her head against her hand, wondering what she could possibly tell him. _Oh, hi Percy! Yeah, your younger brother is an abusive, alcoholic twat, and, ha, by the way, I'm hopelessly in love with and shagging your older brother! Buh-bye now!_ Somehow she didn't think that would go down too well.  
Jo noticed her unhappiness and made her jump when she softly asked, "Everything okay, 'Mione?"  
She blinked a few times- she had quite forgotten that Jo was there- before smiling. "Yeah, everything's fine. So, what needs doing before I head off to Avalon?"  
"Well, you'll need to check in with all the other Departments to get up to date on what we think might be on the Island, you'll have to go for a medical check at St. Mungo's, and, of course, you'll have to be reviewed by the Aurors."  
She stomach fell to the floor with a crash. "The Aurors?" She repeated softly.  
"Mmm-hmm." Jo hummed in confirmation, not looking up from where she was scribbling away. "They'll need to make sure you're fighting fit, able to defend yourself if necessary." Hermione felt sick; what if, Merlin forbid, they asked Ron to review her? "I mean I know it's ridiculous," Jo continued, "to have to question _you_ of all people, but you know what it's like with protocol and- Hermione!" She had just looked up and seen the pale, greenish hue of her friend's skin. "Is everything ok?!"

"Yeah." Hermione breathed, barely hearing her. "D'ya know, I think I'll get a head start on some of that research." What she needed right now was a distraction, so she wandered over to Jo's desk and silently picked up the stack of parchment she had resting there. Ignoring the other woman's concerned look, she settled down to read through the facts and figures about Avalon's history and myths, not even hearing when Jo muttered she was going for lunch. It was only when, after about five hours solid reading, she had finished the stack, she moved again, telling Jo quietly that she was going to pick up some more documents from the Department of International Magical Cooperation and heading silently to the lifts.

...

As she rounded the corner out of the Auror offices, a flash of red hair caught her eye, and she instinctively ducked, shrinking away from the possibility that it could be Ron. _You're being stupid,_ she told herself firmly, _we're in a crowded place, the Ministry no less, he's not going to try anything._ So, squaring her shoulders, she straightened her back and strode out, cursing herself when she nearly sagged in relief at the horn-rimmed glasses. "Percy," She murmured as he caught her eye and frowned, "I guess I owe you an explanation."  
"That would be nice. I suppose you got my message?"  
"Yes, I was just… On my way to find you." She lied unconvincingly.  
"Oh?" He polished his glasses and scowled. "Really? So you weren't trying to think of a story to tell me about why you asked me to go to your house? Or maybe some fantastic excuse as to why he was so drunk I nearly dragged him to St. Mungo's to get his stomach emptied? Or maybe just, oh I don't know, what exactly the hell is going on?"  
She glanced around nervously. "Not here." She indicated to the crowds around them, and nodded her head to a side corridor. "Come on, we can talk there."

Sighing heavily, he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Follow me." He muttered, as he led her to one of the lifts, promptly pressing the door for the Minister's Office.  
"Um, are you sure we should, you know…?" She whispered nervously.  
He raised an eyebrow imperiously. "There _are_ some advantages to being Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, you know." Raising her eyebrows and thinking with a quiet chuckle that at least _some_ things never changed, they spent the rest of the trip in silence.

When they arrived in the antechamber to the elaborately furnished office, Percy offered her a seat at his desk, which was, predictably, immaculately clean. "Have you had lunch?" He asked briskly, taking her somewhat by surprise.  
"Lunch?" She exclaimed.  
"My mother would kill me if I didn't ask."  
She sniggered slightly. "That's true. And no, I haven't, but I'm okay thank you."  
"Nonsense." He snapped. "What do you want, sandwiches? Juice? Crisps?"  
"Percy, really, I-"  
"If you don't tell me I'll simply order a fillet steak and not let you leave until you've eaten every last bite." He threatened, and she blanched.  
"Um, sandwiches would be nice." She replied meekly, and with a nod of approval he waved his wand, sending a silent message off. Less than ten seconds later, a tray of assorted sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice appeared on the table between them.

"Dig in." He offered, after spreading out a makeshift tablecloth. She grabbed what looked like a chicken salad, and bit in gratefully, not realising how hungry she had been. Percy sat opposite and did the same, eyeing her curiously. "Well, at least now my mother won't hex me into next week." He mumbled eventually.  
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, disturbed by his strange mood.  
"No." He stated bluntly. "Something's going on, something bad, and I have no idea what it is, but it's terrifying me."  
"Oh." Hermione replied lamely. "Well, I mean-"  
"Just tell me the truth, 'Mione, please."

She sighed and leant back, dropping her half-eaten food, appetite gone. "Ron's been… He's having a few problems. With alcohol."  
Percy frowned at her. "I'd guessed that much, thanks. What else?"  
"He's been drinking more, a lot more. More than ever before."  
"There's more to this than just drink." In an unusual act of comfort, he leant across the desk and grabbed her hand lightly. "Tell me, 'Mione. I might be able to help."  
At his gentleness, she softened. "I don't think you should be any more involved that you already are. Let's just say that… I'm leaving him, and I have good reason to."  
"Is he hurting you? Has he hit you again?" Percy asked bluntly, almost angrily, and when she lowered her eyes and refused to answer, he sighed heavily.

A few moments went by, and Percy studied his sister-in-law intently, various ideas dancing through his quick mind. "Does this have anything to do with Bill?" He blurted suddenly, causing her to snap her head back sharply enough to almost cause whiplash.  
"Excuse me?" She blurted, trying to look as innocent as possible.  
"Well… Bill's been acting strangely too, and I know he's been having issues with Fleur… It just seems a bit too coincidental."  
"Sometimes coincidences do just happen, you know."  
"What, like all those years ago? Rose's birth?"

She choked on her sip of pumpkin juice, and spluttered awkwardly, before finally managing to croak, "What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"  
He shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "There just seemed to be a few things that didn't add up. Fleur runs off, Bill's going mad. You come back, Bill's suddenly happy again. Fleur comes back, Ginny goes into premature labour, then you and Ron are suddenly together. And Rose is born, supposedly a month early, but perfectly healthy and with no mention of an early birth from any of the Healers. You know, just a lot of coincidences."  
"Yup," Hermione squeaked in return, "that is a lot of them."  
"Hermione, were you already pregnant when you and Ron first started dating?" Percy asked bluntly, peering at her over his glasses.  
"Ron has raised Rose, he's her dad." She answered, carefully avoiding the question.

It didn't seem to slip past him. "You made Bill happy, all the years ago. I don't think you were just friends." She shrugged. "I think that you started seeing each other, in secret." Silence. "I think Ginny knew, and that's why she went into labour when she saw Fleur again." She stared at the ceiling. "I think you were in love."  
"You sound ridiculous."  
"I think you still are."  
 _That_ made her look at him. "I've been married to Ron for years, remember? I loved him, before he… Well, I've loved him for years."  
"Maybe," Percy acceded, "but you're not _in_ love with him. I don't think you ever have been."  
"You think a lot of things."  
Percy gave a small half-smile. "To be honest, I've thought these things for a while; it was the way that you and Bill used to look at each other that gave you away."  
She chewed the inside of her mouth. "You do realise I haven't admitted anything, don't you?"  
"You don't need to. I may not be the best or brightest when it comes to reading people, but I've known you and Bill both for a long time." As she opened her mouth, he held up a hand. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Just answer me two things; one, how much help does Ron need? Two, are you leaving one of my brothers just so that you can be with another?"

She frowned slightly, considering how best to answer his first question, the second was clearly obvious. "I'm not sure how much help he needs, a lot, probably. Certainly more than I can give him."  
"You've tried?"  
"I've been trying ever since the funeral, Percy."  
The red-head winced in sympathy. "Why didn't you say anything? Ask for our help?"  
She shrugged. "I thought he needed the help more than me and, besides, he's your brother."  
"And you're our sister!" He declared passionately, surprising her, touching her heart.  
Reaching across the table, she clasped one of his hands between hers. "Thank you, Percy. Truly."  
He flushed the Weasley scarlet and started muttering in embarrassment. "Well… You know… It's just… You are… You know… Part of the family… Always have been… Very important…" He coughed awkwardly.

Finally taking pity on him, she smiled and changed the subject. "As for your second question, of course I'm not. Bill," She eyed him, "I mean, whatever history he and I may or may not have, doesn't have anything to do with my leaving Ron. I just… I just can't carry on like we are right now."  
He nodded in understanding, before leaning back. "Well, I can't say I'm really happy about it, but I guess… As long as you guys are happy and you're, you know, safe."  
"Thanks Perce. You won't-"  
"I won't tell anyone, I swear."  
"Thanks."

Another silence, this one more relaxed, settled between them, as they sipped from their glasses. "What do Rose and Hugo think?" Percy suddenly asked, making Hermione squirm in nervousness.  
"I'm going to Hogwarts on Saturday, to speak with Profes- Minerva- and I'm going to take them to lunch, speak with them then. I just… I hope they'll understand." She gnawed her lip, fresh dread filling her.  
"I'm sure they will." He said soothingly.  
"If they don't… Well, they have to come first, always. I won't do anything that they can't cope with or can't… I mean, I know it's going to hurt, going to upset them, but I'm sure that if they keep their minds open…"  
"They're your kids," Percy reassured, "they'll be able to cope."  
"I really hope so." Hermione repeated.

They parted ways soon after, Hermione feeling surprisingly lighter after speaking to Percy, though him feeling significantly more burdened. How could he and the others have ignored their sister-in-law's plight for so long? How could they have been so blind? He was fairly sure that Ron had been beating her; when he had asked there had been a look in her eyes, like a frightened rabbit running from a kneazle, and there was something just _off_ about her. But he couldn't believe it, _wouldn't_ believe that Ron could hit her. There was the one incident after the funeral, but like Hermione had said, no-one was acting like themselves after such a horrid occasion. Surely, the irritating, whining, world-saving boy he remembered from so many years ago couldn't deliberately, frequently hurt the woman he had pledged his heart too. He'd been besotted with her since they were teens!

But then Percy remembered the mad look in his eyes as he screamed at his wife, blamed her for Harry and Ginny's death, and struck her. Quickly getting a very bad migraine, he made a very un-Percy-like decision and, penning a quick note claiming illness, went home, to find Audrey and simply hold her. And to tell her he loved her, over and over again. From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to tell Audrey that he loved her.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N** Me again with, as promised, a chapter a day! Thanks to crossy, bookworm and twisted willow for the reviews, I'm very glad to be back too! Got another little happy chapter for you now, but fear not, my usual misery and grim writing will be returning soon ;)

 **Disclaimer:** Didn't I promise I'd tell you if I became JKR? I haven't!

And as always...

Enjoy!

 **Chapter 15**

The weekend arrived quickly, almost too quickly, but happily without incident, and as she apparated to Hogwarts, she felt cautiously optimistic. Seeing the great castle again felt, even after all these years, like coming home, and as she strode through the gates she found herself, almost without realising it, grinning as she looked out at all the students, basking in the unusual sun. Eyes drawn towards the old tree where she, Harry and Ron used to sit and do their homework, her smile fell slightly as her memories seemed to taunt her with images of happier times, happier memories.

All thoughts were quickly expelled however, when a cheerful voice called out to her. "Hermione!"  
She turned to where the voice had come from to see nobody other than a grinning, slightly tanned, Professor Longbottom. "Neville!" She cried back, jogging to meet him and giggling as he pulled her into a tight hug, spinning her in the air. "It's so good to see you!" She smiled when he let her down.  
"It's been so long!" He mock-scolded. "I haven't even had a letter!"  
She laughed loudly, and tucked her arm into his as they strolled across the lawns. "I'm sorry! It's just…" She trailed off awkwardly, but he didn't seem to notice.  
"Honestly, when Minerva said you'd be stopping by, I swear I'd forgotten who you were." He pouted, before smiling widely and nudging her slightly. "It's really great to see you 'Mione."  
"You too, Neville."

"So why are you here anyway?" He asked as they reached the front doors. "I asked Minerva, but she said she didn't want to get my hopes up." He raised an eyebrow in intrigue.  
Deftly avoiding the question, she chuckled. "It's so strange to hear you call Professor McGonagall Minerva."  
Neville shrugged. "She's not so bad, old McGonagall." But the nervous twist to his face that she remembered oh so well started twitching slightly. "As long as you don't, you know, break any of the rules. Or, uh, offer her a drink that isn't a sherry. Although after a few sherries she's bloody brilliant."  
Hermione choked. "You've seen our old Head of House drunk?!"  
He had a glint in his eye. "Christmas parties at Hogwarts are much more fun when you're a teacher. And you still haven't told me why you're here." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Though I'm sure I can guess."  
Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "I don't want you to get your hopes up," She warned, "but apparently old Slughorn wants to retire again."

Predictably, he gave a small whoop of delight, and started bouncing across the Entrance Hall, then up the Grand Staircase, all the time yammering away; "Oh, you _have_ to take it 'Mione, it'll be so great! Just like old times, but _better_ , and it'll be so great to have one of the old group around. I mean, not that I don't love the current teachers," He paused to suck in some air and frown, "well, _most_ of them anyway, but to have one of the proper old group, one of the DA! And you know you'd be a brilliant teacher, I mean you practically forced me through my exams, and heck, if I got decent grades- JOHNSON! THAT HAD BETTER NOT BE PUKING PASTILLES IN YOUR POCKET!- then you can get any idiot decent grades!"  
As the young boy, Johnson, ran off, looking guilty, Hermione frowned at her old friend. "You're not an idiot, Neville, and you earned those grades yourself, don't give me any credit! Listen, I don't know if I'm taking the job yet, that's why I'm speaking to Minerva today. So really, don't get your hopes up too much."  
Neville smirked. "But you're considering it, and knowing our Head, she'll be able to convince you, no problem."

"Thank you for your faith in me, Professor Longbottom." Came the sharp, accented voice of Hermione's favourite teacher from school, member of the Order of the Phoenix, now Headmistress; Minerva McGonagall.  
"Of course, Headmistress." Neville replied formally, glancing at the students passing, before they climbed the last few steps to meet her outside her office.  
"Jason Phillips! No running in the corridors!" She barked, and Hermione smiled; oh yes, this was _just_ like being back at school. That was until, after checking that the coast was clear of any wayward children to see her, she stepped forward and hugged Hermione swiftly. "It's wonderful to see you. Thank you for bringing her up, Neville."  
"Not at all." He grinned. "If we have news to celebrate later on, drinks are on me, yeah?"  
Minerva looked queasy. "I think not, the sherry in the Broomsticks has really changed. Last time we went out…" Shuddering delicately, she glanced at Hermione. "You don't want to know. Well, shall we? Puss-in-Boots!"  
Hermione stifled a giggle at the ridiculous password, and smiled even more when Neville whispered, "I transfigured some Muggle Absinthe, made it look like sherry, one of the funniest things I've ever seen." Raising a hand in farewell, he called, "See you later Minnie. Later 'Mione."  
"See you Neville."  
"It's Minerva!"

Still chuckling, she followed the Head onto the spiral staircase and into the grand office, which looked really rather remarkably different to when it had been in Dumbledore's possession. Instead of twinkling silvery objects that clicked and whirred, and strange devices that no-one, not even their owner, knew the purpose of, there were a large variety of animals, perched, sat or hanging from and on every surface. Owls and ravens hooted, snakes and lizards darted in and out of the nooks and crannies, countless other birds and beasts called out their greetings when they entered. But more than any other, there were dozens of cats that meowed and mewled, rubbing their bodies against Minerva's legs affectionately.  
When Hermione raised an eyebrow, the older woman smiled and shrugged. "They're my spies." At her alarmed look, she laughed. "Dumbledore had his ways of knowing everything that went on in the castle, so do I!"  
Nodding, a teasing glint in her eyes, she shrugged. "I see; good idea, _Minnie_."  
Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses as she scowled. "Don't you start with that, Miss Granger. You're not yet too old for me to send you to detention!" But as Hermione tried her best not to burst into laughter, a smiled played around McGonagalls lips, until she eventually chuckled. "That boy… Sometimes I can't believe that he used to be the terrified Gryffindor who could hardly tie his own shoelaces."  
Hermione hummed in agreement. "That poor little boy I had to body-bind in our first year."  
Minerva sniffed. "I still can't believe that the three of you got _rewarded_ for all that nonsense that year."  
"I didn't hear you complaining when the Great Hall was decorated in red and gold." She teased, and the other woman smirked.  
"Yes, Severus' face was quite the picture." Smile dropping, she glanced at the wall, where Snape was sitting in his imperious black chair, eyes closed, seemingly in deep sleep. "Poor Severus."

They both gazed at the man's sharp features for a few moments, each lost in their own memories of the fallen hero. "Must you stare at me?" The portrait suddenly snapped, making Hermione give an undignified shriek of shock. His lip curled in a familiar sneer, as he spoke in his silky, dangerous voice. "Miss Granger… Just when I thought I'd ridded myself of you and your little friends…"  
Though, as a child, she would've been terrified of that tone, whether it was the fact she had grown up, the fact that she'd since faced true, great horrors or the fact that she knew the troubled and painful past of the man behind the darkness, she simply smiled. "Nice to see you too, Professor Snape." He sniffed, but she could swear she saw the tiniest hint of a smile, trying to force its way through. "I hope Slytherin is looking after my Rose?"  
Minerva sighed. "Such a shame that she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor, after you and the Weasleys were all sent there, too!"  
"Come now, Minerva," Severus purred darkly, "you can simply consider this Slytherin taking revenge… After all, old Slughorn always did say that he wanted the full Black family. Not that I can understand _why_ he wanted anything to do with Sirius Black."  
"Oh shush, Severus, you know-"  
"Just as long as Rose is happy." Hermione cut across, suspecting that this and similar arguments were quite common between the old friends.

"Quite. As for her, of course Slytherin is looking after her." Snape replied smoothly. "She's doing very," He paused, the word 'well' dying in his throat and scowling as he seemed to remember that he 'hated' Hermione, "adequately." She bit back a smile. "She might even pass her O.W.L.s, though giving the quality of your staff, Minerva, I highly doubt it."  
"Well then, I imagine you'll approve of my replacement for Horace, Severus."  
"Oh?"  
Minerva beamed and indicated towards the younger woman. "Well, I haven't accepted yet." Hermione frowned as, out of the corner of her eye, Snape gave the tiniest of approving nods.  
"Of course!" The Headmistress said brusquely, sitting behind the large desk and indicating for her to take the other seat. "Severus, may we have some privacy?" And he retook his armchair with a snort of disapproval.

Gently picking up the black and white kitten on the proffered chair, taking her seat and setting the small fluff-ball on her lap, where it immediately started purring happily, she began, voice business-like. "So, potions."  
The older woman leant back, nodding. "Horace is eager to re-retire, and I'm not entirely eager to convince him to stay."  
"But why ask me? Surely there are better applicants, people with more experience with potions, or at least _some_ experience in teaching."  
Minerva shrugged. "Do you think any of your defence professors had experience with teaching? Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that."  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "This is hardly a desperate situation."  
"Have you met Horace Slughorn?" Came Snape's dry voice.  
"Severus!" Minerva barked, and, muttering furiously, he walked out of the side of his portrait.

"Pro- Minerva, look at how said defence Professors fared; if I'm going to be a teacher, I want to do it properly. I want to get proper training, maybe even work towards my Masters in potioneering, then have some work experience at a _different_ school." Hermione left no argument in her tone, but the Head still tried.  
"But- but, Hermione, that could take _years_!"  
She nodded. "I wouldn't work here for years anyway."  
"But-"  
"Minerva, Rose and Hugo already get enough grief for being children of the 'Golden Trio', I'm not going to put them through even more by having their _mother_ as a teacher."  
Sighing heavily, she nodded. "Okay, fair enough. But, after Hugo graduates…?" She trailed off suggestively. "Assuming that you and Ron aren't planning on having another little one, of course."  
Ignoring the second statement, she smiled weakly. "Yeah, I suppose I could teach here. Though I enjoy working at the Ministry…" She stood and walked slowly to the window overlooking the grounds. "This place still feels a bit like home."  
Minerva stood and joined her at the window. "It has a way of doing that, this place. Just remember, whether you come here to visit or teach, Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home." Hermione smiled. "I'm glad you'll be coming back."  
Glancing back at Minerva, she smiled. "I'll be glad to come back too."

They sat back down, when Minerva sighed. "So, which post do you want when you come back?"  
Frowning, she replied, "I thought you wanted me in potions?"  
Smiling wearily, Minerva shrugged. "A lot of the old staff are getting rather, well, old, Hermione. Though Horace is top of the list for retirement, Filius is considering it, Septima, Aurora… Many of our newer recruits have considered leaving too; you could have your pick of the mix."  
Hermione gazed at her in worry. "How many want to leave?"  
With a grim look, she replied; "You'd have your choice of transfiguration, charms, astronomy, arithmancy, muggle studies and potions."  
She gasped in shock. "So many?!"  
"I made the mistake of hiring some old students, people who had fought in the War. Now that the castle is back to its prime, repaired and healed, it seems to bring back a few too many memories for some of them."  
"I can understand that." Hermione replied, biting her lip as she remembered the blasted rubble and deathly ash that had surrounded the area after the Final Battle. "There are a lot of ghosts here, even those we can't see."  
They sat quietly for a long while, each lost in memories, before McGonagall quietly said, "I can understand if you want to change your mind about teaching here."

She had seriously considered it in those moments of silence; she could divorce Ron, stay at the Ministry as her husband would undoubtedly be fired to seek help, and let her life continue in the same way it had been for nearly two decades. In fact, she could simply retire! Merlin knew that, despite the fact that she had given the majority of the money gifted to her for her 'efforts in the war' to charity, her well paid job meant that she still had far more than enough gold in her vault. She could easily buy a house on a beachfront on some beautiful island and spend the rest of her life sunning herself, a constant supply of iced gin and tonic at the wave of her wand, her children being the envy of all their classmates for their beautiful, exotic home. She could live like the Malfoys used to, or the snooty girl she went to primary school with did, or the ridiculous celebrities featured in the magazines in her parents' surgery.

But what would that mean, for her and for her children? The last thing she had ever wanted was for them to grow up, not knowing the value of a knut, or a hard day of work. Like Draco had been. It was why she had fought so hard with Ron to give them, though the best of equipment and supplies, unordained items. He had wanted more than anything to get them both a gold cauldron, to give them the best of the best, but she had refused; they were already famous enough because of their parents and they didn't need any extra attention caused by wealthy purchases. Of course, she had understood his desire to give his children the creme de la creme, so to speak, given the poverty of his upbringing, but she wouldn't let her children become spoilt brats. Which was why, if they wanted an advance on their five knuts a week pocket money, they had to earn it. Though she spoiled them a little, she didn't want them to ever believe that money was the most important thing; that dinner at a five-star restaurant was more enjoyable than a family picnic with squashed sandwiches and a scratchy blanket. That a pure-bred kneazle costing ten times more than a half-breed was any more affectionate or loving. That a huge beachside house was any more homely or welcoming than a modest house or cottage.

And what of her? She loved working, she _adored_ it, and always had done. Especially in the last few years, when it had been a blissful distraction from the memories and nightmares that always plagued her, a safe place where she could lose herself in parchment and ink, the only things that mattered being the words. It was why she had always loved reading; whether it be fiction or non-fiction, textbook or fairytale, diary or myth; she could lose herself in the words, leave her own world and enter another. If she retired she could spend the rest of her life reading. But as she blinked slowly, a tear fell down her cheek; she could no longer find refuge, she hadn't been able to since the War. Yes, she found enjoyment in learning and imagining the brilliant tales she read… But there was no solace. Sighing heavily, and thinking of all the wonderful years she had had at Hogwarts, the joy despite the misery, the victory despite the loss, the life despite the deaths, she raised her head slowly.

"Transfiguration was always my favourite subject." Minerva walked around the desk and hugged her tightly, smiling. 

… 

A few minutes later, they descended the stairs once more, hearing the general hustle and bustle from students settling down to their lunch in the Great Hall, and Hermione gratefully accepted Minerva's offer to fetch the children for her. Even all these years on, she imagined her presence in the hall would create somewhat of a scene.  
When, a moment later, the Head returned, trailed by Rose and Hugo, they ran towards her and she enveloped them in a tight hug. "Mum, you're really here!" The young girl cried in joy.  
"Of course I am! I said I'd be taking you out, didn't I?" The pair grinned at one another, before a muffled sound distracted them.  
"Mum, you're crushing me!" Came the boy's voice from against her chest.  
Letting them go and beaming lovingly, she kissed their foreheads, and replied, "Sorry darling."  
"M-uuu-m!" Hugo complained, wiping his forehead and cautiously checking if any other students had witnessed the 'PDA'.

"Sorry, sorry…" She chuckled in reply. "Anyway, have you eaten yet?" Hugo shook his head and she grinned. "Well, your Headmistress has very kindly said that I can take you _both_ out for lunch, if you'd like?"  
Hugo grinned. "Can we go to Maggie's? The fish and chip place? The food here is always healthy and-" Minerva cleared her throat loudly and the boy turned puce. "Very lovely of course. Really delicious. Very good."  
Grinning at McGonagall, who shot her a wink, Hermione led them both out of the door. "Maggie's it is, kids."  
"Mum," Rose began quietly, "is everything okay? Why did you want to meet?"  
"I'll explain everything when we get there Rosie." And with that, they disapparated. 

… 

Roughly an hour and a half later, after dropping her children back at Hogwarts, Hermione returned to her small cottage, wrote Bill a quick note to send off with Archie, and settled down on the sofa, Crookshanks quickly jumping up next to her. The part kneazle sniffed her curiously and glared, clearly unimpressed that another feline had been on her lap, before collapsing on her and rolling around, clearly re-marking his territory. She chuckled and scratched his belly, before sinking into thought as she stared at the ash in the fireplace grate.

She was amazed at how incredible the pair had been. Not just incredible, but brilliant. Not just incredible or brilliant, but fantastic! Though her heart had broken somewhat as they had quietly confided that they had suspected serious problems between her and Ron for quite some time, they had calmly informed her that they understood why they would get a divorce. Even when she had mentioned that she realised it was unusual for them, they had merely laughed weakly, reminded her that it was the twenty-first century, and informed her that half of the students at Hogwarts had divorced parents. The main thing that she had tried to instill though, the main thing she cared about them knowing, was that they weren't to blame and that she and their dad still loved them both. So much. To this, they had leant into her, hugging one side each tightly, and told her that they loved her too. In that moment, right there and then, Hermione had never felt that her freedom, her happiness and, dare she believe it, her future with Bill, had never been more achievable.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N** Next daily chapter! Though it might be the same day for those from other countries, I just needed to get this out of my system. So we're back to normal with this one, sorry... Crossy, thank you once more, and your prediction is unfortunately correct! Bookworm, really happy that it made your morning! But... Well, sorry... In fact, sorry to all of you lovely people.

 **WARNING! READ ME!** Right, so I said at the beginning that this was rated a serious M, and the opening of this chapter defines that more than anything else. This is one of the hardest things I have ever written, and if I'm honest, I hated writing it. And I know that a lot of you are going to hate it too. But people change, not only in life, but in an authors mind, and for me, there is a monster in this story, instead of a man.

The beginning of this chapter contains **_serious_ ** sexual abuse, and please, if- understandably- that is uncomfortable for you to read, skip ahead. I've put a page break after the scene ends, so you can literally scroll down and not have to read it; the scene is mentioned later on so you won't miss anything.

I beg of you, don't read the first part unless you're old enough and prepared for it. And if you do read it, and you or know someone you know are suffering, please reach out to someone. There are people out there who can, and will, help. If anyone is unsure about where to find help, message me.

I won't say I hope you enjoy... But, I will say I really appreciate your constant support, through everything. Thank you, really.

 **Disclaimer:** Dobby is still dead. Therefore I an still not JKR.

 **Chapter 16**

Hermione strode with not-entirely-false confidence towards the front door of the house she shared with Ron or, as she now privately thought to herself, the _ex_ -house she _used_ to share with Ron. As she pushed the door open and stepped inside, a slight shudder passed through her while she remembered, as she had been doing with increasing frequency, her last injuries in this place, and her spine stiffened perceptively. She brushed her fingers over the walls and, though this place would never have the same homely feeling it had years ago, she would be lying if she denied she would miss this house, with its well loved furniture and countless family pictures. Shaking her head and firmly telling herself to move, and with her children's words of understanding encouragement ringing in her ears, she pulled out her trusted beaded bag and headed towards the stairs.

She gave an undignified shriek of shock when, from the sofa, a low voice called, "Hello dear."  
Clutching her wand and trying to steady her breathing when her husband stood on unsteady feet and faced her, she swallowed thickly. "Ron," She began, begging her voice to stop wobbling, "I didn't realise you were home."  
"A happy surprise, I suppose?" He replied sarcastically whilst sneering in a Malfoy-esque way. Her eyes flickered briefly to the bottle of whisky half-empty in his hand and she sighed; it was barely eleven in the morning and he was clearly already drunk. "Where have you been?" He snapped, making her scowl again.  
"None of your business." She bit right back, surprised and chilled when he replied with a mean little laugh.  
"I don't know why I bothered to ask, bit stupid really."  
She raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't be the first time you've done something incredibly stupid." They stood, glaring at one another, for a few moments, before she shrugged lightly. "Not that it matters. I'm going to see Magical Law tomorrow and I'm filing for a divorce. I've already spoken to Rose and Hugo, and they understand that it's nothing to do with them; kindly try not to make this even harder on them."

"Do you know why I shouldn't have bothered asking where you were?" He continued, as if she hadn't just told him she was divorcing him.  
She huffed and felt the immature urge to stamp her foot. "Ronald, did you hear what I just said?"  
"It's because I know _exactly_ where you were."  
"Ron-"  
"You were with Bill."  
His statement stunned her into silence and for a short time she simply opened and closed her mouth mutely. "I assure you I have _not_ been with Bill for the past few days, not that it's any of your-"  
"Don't lie to me you little..." Ron interrupted in a light, careless voice, voice trailing off as he swirled his drink thoughtfully. "Slut." He finished with determination.  
"Don't call me that." She snapped. "And I'm not lying."  
His easy demeanour suddenly changed as he hurled a newspaper towards her. In any other situation, her Quidditch-mad husband may have been impressed at her reflexes, for she grabbed the paper from the air moments before it hit her face. She caught it, yes, but only to drop it less than a second later as if it had burned her, and stared, horror-stricken, at the front page.

Unable to stop the trembling in her hands, she reached down and picked the offending item up from where it lay at her feet, her breath becoming more and more shallow with each moment as her eyes roamed over the article.

 **One Weasley Witch? Or One Wicked Woman?**

Below the headline was a blown up portrait of herself and Bill, holding hands and gazing at one another with ungoverned tenderness and affection, and she quickly recognized the restaurant where, earlier that same week, they had shared dinner together. Where they had instinctively grabbed one another's hands, talking about their marriages and children. Where a reporter had evidently snapped a photo of them. She speed-read the article, cringing at the typically tabloid claims of unfaithfulness and scandal, and feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach as she began to recognise the particularly crude and extravagant style of writing, not to mention that she was displayed as little less than a demon harlot. She sighed and cursed her _stupid_ fifteen year old self for deciding to make an enemy of Rita Skeeter, whose name was printed proudly below the lines of trash, and couldn't help but remember her swift threatening of said woman after Harry and Ginny's funeral; she should've known the vindictive bitch would find a way to get her back.

Her mind, as it did so often, snapped to Rose and Hugo who would not only be concerned and confused, but would also undoubtedly be the brunt of the adolescent gossip that spread through Hogwarts quicker than the smell of Sybill Trelawney's sherry. So consumed was she by thoughts of her children, how to get back at the horrific reporter and- though she would never admit it to herself- stealing glances at Bill's loving black-and-white expression, that she didn't notice that Ron had moved next to her until he swiftly plucked her wand from where it was held loosely in her hand.  
Immediately, she dropped the paper and began moving back towards the door, facing Ron warily. "So," He began coolly, "are you still going to claim that you weren't with _him_?"  
"Give me back my wand."  
"Are you still denying it?"  
"Give me back my wand Ron!"  
"You won't be needing it. Are. You. Still. Denying. It?"  
"We met up once, that's all." She said with a slight tremor in her voice. "Skeeter is blowing this out of proportion."  
"I _told_ you I didn't want you seeing him!" He hissed furiously.  
"You can't tell me what to do! I'm sick and bloody tired of this; I'm signing for divorce tomorrow and that's that."  
She turned to run for the door; wand or no wand she wasn't staying with an undoubtedly furious and drunk Ron for a moment longer, she'd rather take her chances with Bellatrix Lestrange's ghost, thank you very much.

However, she had taken no more than two hasty steps before she was yanked back by her hair, causing her to shriek in shocked pain. She was quickly thrown to the side, and rolled ungracefully over the back of the sofa, hitting her head painfully on the edge of a side-table as she did. As she groaned, clutching her head and rubbing her hip where she had knocked it, lying face-down along the sofa, she suddenly found herself screaming in terror. In no time at all, Ron had moved to lay his body over hers, and was whispering furious words in her ear, even as she felt the jeans she was wearing sliced away with a quick spell from his wand, taking a chunk out of her leg as they went. She started kicking out wildly, but his greater strength and quick binding spell halted her actions, and she could do nothing but screech in aghast panic. She continued pleading and begging him to stop and _leave her alone_ , right up until her knickers were ripped from her and he thrust forward. Her desperate wailing was quickly silenced as, to her horror, he began forcing himself inside her violently, yelling and swearing that she belonged to him as she choked and sobbed beneath him. His fingernails drew blood dragging against her breasts and back, and his breath, hot and smelling of alcohol, murmured insults and hateful words in her ear, even as he continued to pound her unwilling body mercilessly, continued to violate her in the worst way imaginable. Such was her despairing shock that, even with her wand, she doubted she would be able to hex him. Ron was... He was... He...

His grunting lasted for only a few more minutes, though it felt like a lifetime to her, before he groaned once and, with one final scraping of his nails against her back, rolled off her. Still panting slightly, he did up his jeans and squatted to where her distraught face was facing the wall, eyes unseeing and filled with tears. "So," He began, brushing away a strand of her hair from her face, "do we have an understanding now?" When she didn't reply, still frozen in her own personal hell, he frowned and slapped her sharply. "Do we have an understanding?"  
Lip wobbling, she nodded. "Yes Ron." Her voice was no more than a breath, but he seemed satisfied.  
"You wont see Bill again, unless I'm there. Understand?"  
"Yes Ron."  
"You wont do _anything_ I don't want you to. Understand?"  
"Yes Ron."  
"You belong to me, and there will _never_ be any talk about divorce again. Understand?"  
"Yes Ron."

"Good girl." He gave an indulgent smile before standing and scowling at her. "Clean yourself up, you look like an absolute mess and we're due at The Burrow in half an hour." He strolled away and, for a few moments she just lay there, silently. Her sluggish mind was refusing to accept what had happened and had it not been for the mixture of blood and semen trickling down her thigh, she would've denied it to her dying day. "Now!" Came Ron's voice from the next room when she didn't move, and she forced herself to stand and begin walking.  
"Ron," She began quietly when she found him in the kitchen, and she started twisting her hands in awkward fear, "may I please have my wand? I need it to help clean myself up. I don't want to be late for dinner with your family."  
He frowned briefly. "That's all you'll use it for?"  
"Yes, of course." He smiled, seemingly satisfied, and produced her wand and, with a quick charm, making a bouquet of flowers burst from it as he handed it back to her. She forced a smile and, when he opened his arms, hugged him. "Thank you."  
"Love you 'Mione." He murmured quietly.  
"I love you too Ron." She replied, eyes dead and mind numb. Ronald Weasley had done the seemingly impossible; Hermione Granger, Golden Girl and brightest witch of her age, was broken.

* * *

Half an hour later, the Granger-Weasley couple arrived and, as instructed, she looked as poised and perfect as any housewife would. The pair met Molly with gentle hugs and vague apologies for missing the last few dinners, before greeting the rest of the family. Ron kept his arm firmly around her waist as he called greetings to his older brothers, who had all arrived before them, before grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from the counter and pouring himself a glass. "Are you sure that's a good idea Ron?" George asked nervously, eyes flicking to Hermione's silent form.

"'Mione and I talked about it, and decided we can handle it together. Seeing as it's been so long since I had an issue, we agreed I could have the occasional drink now and then. Isn't that right love?" Hermione nodded with a silent smile and downcast eyes, not noticing the look of confusion and concern passed between the four elder Weasley children. "C'mon darling," Ron continued with a brilliant smile and a tug on her hand, "let's go through to the lounge." She followed obediently, and when Bill reached out to touch her shoulder and get her attention, she flinched away and flicked her eyes up to his fearful ones, before following her husband.

Bill, for his part, was nothing short of terrified. Seeing Hermione walk through the door with her abusive, drunken husband, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, made him think... Well, it wasn't Hermione. That _person_ following Ron around like a bloody dog was not Hermione Granger, not his Hermione. That person was barely human. He met Percy's eyes, who also looked incredibly shocked and only a little less than afraid, and gave an imperceptible nod of his head towards the back door, before exiting.

Percy, to his relief, followed him silently, with Charlie bringing up the rear, and he strode swiftly towards the orchard, trying to stop his shoulders from shaking. When the three eldest Weasley children stood in the cover of the trees, Bill spun on the spot and gazed at Percy with barely concealed nerves. "Hermione sent me an owl, saying that you knew about some... Things. How much do you know?"  
He took his glasses off and polished them wearily, shooting Charlie a look. "I know pretty much all of it, Perce." The other man assured.  
"Okay then." He sighed heavily, before meeting his eldest brother's eyes steadily. "I know that Ron's been drinking again. A lot. Worse than before. And he's been... Hurting her. I know that Hermione was planning on leaving him, very soon. I know that she was planning on speaking to Rose and Hugo yesterday- did something go wrong with them, or-"  
"The meeting went fine." Bill interrupted. "They understand. Apparently they've been worried about her for some time, and Rose especially has been expecting something like this for a while." He didn't miss the way Percy gazed at him when he said Rose's name, and scowled slightly. "What else do you know?"  
Glancing once more at Charlie, he stiffened his shoulders. "I know that she promised me she wasn't leaving Ron for you." Flushing slightly, he continued. "What I mean, is that she promised that she had other reasons for leaving him. Not just because you two..."  
Bill frowned. "Of course she has other reasons. How much do you know about... You know... Us?"  
Percy fidgeted. "More than I probably want to, but less than I probably should." He peered over his glasses at his brother. "Especially with regards to, umm, children?"  
He raised an eyebrow. "So you know that 'Mione and I were, you know..."  
"Together? Madly in love? Still _are_ madly in love? Yeah, I know. I guessed a few years ago to be honest, but she confirmed it the other day."  
"Look, you have to know that-"  
"I already know; it was before she and Ron were even together, she's always put family first and tried to make things work, she-"

"As fascinating as this 'who knows what' session is," Charlie interrupted dryly, "it doesn't answer what the hell's going on with Ron and 'Mione now."  
Percy glared at him. "Hold on, how do _you_ know about all this?" He looked between the two of his older brothers curiously.  
Charlie shrugged. "Misery plus firewhiskey plus me threatening to hex Bill if he didn't tell me." At Percy's disapproving look, he sighed. "He was punching walls; I took various measures to stop him."  
"Including threatening him?"  
Charlie gave a cheeky smirk. "Don't worry Perce, I'd do it for any of my brothers!"  
"Returning to the subject at hand," Bill cut across before their discussion could elevate into a full-blown argument, "what's up with 'Mione?" He leant against a nearby tree and buried his face in his hands, groaning as his heart slipped even further into his abdomen. "She's not even _close_ to herself right now, and I don't know what the hell has happened, but we need to figure it out. _Now_. Because if he's still drinking, and she's suddenly acting like a... Like a... Like a..."  
"Obedient dog?" Charlie supplied, flinching almost immediately when Bill, whose eyes had been amber since first seeing his love on his brother's arm, growled violently.  
"Don't be bloody rude about her. She's suddenly acting weirdly, he's drinking, so obviously something has happened, and we need to figure out what the _fuck_ it is."

Charlie, now used to Bill's emotional outbursts, especially regarding Hermione, casually ignored the narrowly-avoided yet still imminent outburst and replied in a smooth voice, "Calm down, Bill. You getting angry isn't going to help anyone, least of all Hermione." When the older man had consciously made an effort to breathe slower and calm himself, he continued. "So, what do we think has happened between them?" He faltered and became fixated with staring at the mossy ground. "I've never seen her like this."  
Percy, his voice sounding more childlike and nervous than it had in years, timidly spoke up. "You don't think he's hit her again, do you?"  
Bill scowled and his eyes flashed gold once more, his voice practically a growl. "I wouldn't put it past him, but this is something worse. When I last saw her, he had... Well, she should've gone to bloody St Mungo's, with the state he put her in." He turned towards the tree he'd been leaning on with fury, and only Charlie quickly grabbing his wrist stopped him from punching the trunk. With gritted teeth, he shoved his brother's arm off and started pacing. "Thanks." He bit out.  
Charlie shrugged. "It's what I'm here for."

"So, erm," Percy, clearly unnerved by the encounter, was wringing his hands, "he's done something worse than, erm, you know..."  
"Giving her a concussion, and breaking her nose, wrist and five of her ribs? Not to mention various fractures and bruises, and making her terrified of going out in public, _and_ making her believe that she's _actually_ guilty of pretty much all of the deaths from the War, along with Ginny and Harry's?" Bill supplied coolly. "Yeah, worse than all of that."  
"He's still our brother." Percy reminded quietly.  
However, before Bill could begin his tirade, Charlie cut in with an equally soft voice. "No he's not, Perce." The first and third sons gazed at the second with incredulity and he shrugged miserably. "Our brother, Ron, would never do _any_ of those things. Just like Hermione isn't herself at the moment, Ron hasn't been himself for weeks." When Bill opened his mouth, a furious look dominating his face, he hastily added, "Not that that justifies what he's done. I'm just saying that the _monster_ that attacked Hermione isn't really our brother."

Bill nodded in reluctant acceptance, before falling to his knees and gripping his hair, as if he wanted to rip it from the roots. "What could he have _done_?!" He hissed angrily. "I mean she's not even Hermione!"  
Percy sat next to him, looking close to tears. "I still can't believe he did all of those things... I can't see him doing _them_ , let alone anything worse."  
Charlie sunk down next to them, holding his head in his hands. "I don't know what the hell's going on, but we need to sort it." The other two nodded. "We first find out what's happened, then-"  
"No." Bill interrupted. "First we get her away from Ron."  
Charlie shook his head regretfully. "Look, she made the choice to leave him, then _something_ happened, and now she's... Well, she's whatever the hell she is right now. Whatever happened, it must have been bad enough that she changed her mind without telling you, and can't even meet your eyes."  
"Look, Charlie, I get that-"  
"Things have happened to her recently that have completely changed her, and personally I don't want Ron to do whatever it was again." His brothers stared at him with horror, and simultaneously said;  
"What did he _do_?"  
"Oh _fucking hell_!"

"So, we can't do anything?" Bill seethed.  
"Charlie's right." Percy sighed. "All we can do is let her know we're there for her. But not you, Bill. Given the article in the Prophet you can't risk even speaking to her."  
"Are you being _serious_? I can't even talk to the woman I love?!"  
"Of course you can't!" Percy forced through a tight grimace. "Do you _honestly_ think that it's a bloody coincidence that the same day an article about you and Mione having dinner comes out- very subtle by the way, you idiot- she suddenly turns up like she's a puppet?"  
Bill looked horrified, but Charlie, with a sigh, cut across him. "It's not your fault, you moron. Percy and I will help to fix it if anyone asks questions, but you have to stay away from Hermione as much as possible. Perce and I will-"  
"Not you, Charlie." Percy interrupted with a sigh. "If he suspects anything between her and Bill, then he'll probably suspect something between you two as well."  
Bill scowled and Charlie rolled his eyes. "I love 'Mione to bits, but I'd never actually try something. Relax, William."  
"But Ron will still suspect it. He's so messed up in his head right now he'll suspect anyone and anything." Percy exhaled sharply and with relief as his brother's shoulders slumped. "The only way we can do this safely is through me."  
Bill tensed again. "Why you?"

"For Merlin's sake!" He exclaimed, jumping up. "I have no interest in sleeping with her! Stop being so alpha male for five minutes! Logically, the only person that can speak to her without Ron finding out is me. I mean, given how he's been, he's not going to let her go anywhere on her own, except when they're at work, and even then he'll probably be bloody monitoring her bloody messages."

"So what's your plan?"  
He shrugged. "I'll do what I did last time; being the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister has its advantages. Mainly that I can send private messages within random documents from the Minister and no-one is allowed to read them, except the recipient." He sniffed. " _Not_ that I abuse that privilege."  
"Except the last time you did it?" Charlie smirked.  
Percy opened his mouth to reply, but Bill cut across him swiftly. "So you can contact her without Ron knowing?"  
"Yes."  
"Brilliant! Tell her-"  
Percy glared at his brother before interrupting. "Bill, she's terrified. Merlin only knows what's got her scared, but if you ask me to give a message of love or support from you, I really think it'll make everything harder. That article from Skeeter has already made things worse, and no matter what your history includes, right now she needs to feel _safe_. Any mention of you, and she'll be terrified of what Ron might do."  
Bill's heart, which had been sinking since he first saw his brother and his love together, promptly fell through his feet "So it _is_ my fault that, whatever it is, has happened. I can't believe-"

Percy suddenly shot up and shoved his eldest brother roughly, looking furious. "Don't you dare!" He yelled, whilst Charlie cast a subtle silencing charm and looked on with confusion.  
"What-"  
"I mean it Bill! Don't you fucking dare!" Bill and Charlie exchanged bemused looks; their brother rarely used profanities, and to hear him use one so angrily was nothing less than shocking. However, he was far from done, and he was now poking his brother in the chest. "Don't you bloody well dare say that what's happened is your fault. Ron isn't Ron right now, and there's nothing that-"  
"The article in the Prophet-"  
"So you were an idiot! He was doing this kind of thing long before that, so it definitely wasn't your fault that he did whatever he did, and-"  
"But-"  
Percy was now purple in the face. "For fucks sake Bill! I know _exactly_ what it feels like to screw your family over and be a selfish bastard, and you haven't done it, not once. You fell in love with someone and _gave her up_ to keep the family together, then stayed in a horrid marriage with a woman that you can't stand, and even now you're trying to fix things for everyone! You've always looked after family, and I've done _nothing_!" Bill looked confused, and Percy turned away from him in distress, burying his face in his hands as his older brothers looked confused.

"I killed him!" He suddenly yelled, facing Bill with tears streaming from his eyes. "I as good as fucking killed him!" At their decidable confounded look he collapsed on Bill's chest. "Fred." He moaned. "I fucking killed him! So you can't say that it's your fault Ron is being like this when I... When I... I..."  
Bill, realisation dawning on him, grabbed him into a tight hug and held him close, murmuring words of reassurance in his ear.

Charlie, who had had a similar encounter with the guilt-ridden Percy a few years ago, walked idly away, trying to distract himself by wondering if he should return to Romania or take up the standing offer of working at the Welsh Reserve. Trying and failing. When he returned, he would never mention that his two brothers both had red-rimmed eyes, or that they had tear-marks down their cheeks, or that they were clearly uncomfortable in that masculine way following an emotional break-down.

So he didn't, and would never, mention it. Instead, he put his best business look on. "So, what are we doing?"  
The other two glanced at one another, and nodded. "I'm going to send 'Mione a message at work tomorrow, letting her know that the family supports and loves her, and if she needs a place to 'cool off', Audrey always loves seeing her."  
Bill nodded at Percy gratefully. "And I'm going to speak to Dad, let him know that Ron needs help again."  
Charlie nodded and smiled. "I guess I'll bring the firewhiskey next time we meet up?"  
All three chuckled, and began to move back towards the Burrow, but Bill halted them at the tree-line. "Who do we tell? And how much do we tell them?" He asked quietly.  
The other pair shuffled awkwardly, before Charlie, biting his lip, asked; "Who else knows?"

Bill sighed. "Who else knows about what?"  
Percy looked distraught. "I imagine that we're the only three that know about you and 'Mione. So he's clearly talking about the... Abuse."  
Bill sunk to the floor once again. "I don't think anyone else knows about the abuse, but... Ginny knew about us." He whispered. "And Hermione still blames herself for her death." Charlie and Percy squatted down to face him.  
"We'll get her to understand it wasn't her fault."  
"Who else knows?"  
"Other than Toni, I told you about that Char, no-one outside of the family, that I know of. Her mum knew about the pair of us, but she lied about some other things."  
Percy frowned. "By that, you mean that Hermione lied about who Rose's father is."  
Bill spluttered. "You-I-what-"  
"For Merlin's sake, Bill, I've guessed that you've been in love for years, and all of a sudden Fleur's back, Ginny's suddenly stressed enough to induce premature labour, and Hermione's pregnant. Oh, and she gave birth at least a month before she was due." He rolled his eyes. "No matter how many times Ron brags that he got her pregnant on their first night together (which is a ridiculously frequent number of times, by the way), the statistics don't support it."

Bill blinked. Then blinked again. And again. "The statistics?" He choked eventually.  
Percy shrugged and glanced and Charlie. "I guess you already know, huh?" Charlie shrugged half-heartedly. "So, she is then. Rose, I mean. She's yours. Yes?"  
Bill couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes."  
"You're sure?"  
"Yes."  
"Dear Merlin."  
"Uh-huh."  
"This is pretty screwed up."  
"Uh-huh."

The three sighed as Bill dragged his fingers through his hair, Charlie kicked at the ground and Percy cleaned his already immaculate glasses again. "So," Percy repeated the earlier question, "who do we tell, and how much?"  
They all rubbed their faces wearily, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. "I honestly don't know." Bill confessed quietly. "My first thought is that we should tell everyone straight away, get Hermione safe and damn everything else. But..." He caught Percy's eye and gave a small grimace. "There are other things to consider. So, logically, I would say to tell... No-one. If anyone asks, we can be honest and admit that we believe there might be some, well, _issues_ , in their marriage, but anything more could put 'Mione in even more danger."  
The other two nodded at his reasoning. "What about Dad? You'll have to tell him something to make him understand that Ron really, _really,_ needs help again."  
"I'm not sure he will." Charlie cut in before Bill could answer. "Dad's an intelligent man; knowing him he's probably already guessed something's up, and he'll respect it if Bill tells him it's not his place to detail what's been going on."  
The three all nodded in decisive agreement to keep their silence, before continuing their slow return to the house.

"When did things get so complicated?" Percy asked quietly. "It seems like only a couple of years ago that Bill had left for Hogwarts the first time."  
They all chuckled, and Bill reminisced fondly. "You kept on 'borrowing' my books Perce; I swear you'd read them all five times over before I even left!"  
He gave a teasing scowl. "At least I didn't hide all of your robes like Charlie!"  
Said man cried out in mock indignation. "That wasn't me, it was Fred and George!" An awkward silence passed between them as they once again thought about Fred. Bill, standing in the middle of the trio, silently wrapped his arms around his brothers as they continued to stroll forward in a sign of solidarity and comfort. They both looked up at him with sad smiles before, mischief in his eyes, Charlie grinned. " _I_ was the one who hid all of your boxers." With a playful laugh, he took off running towards the house, the other two hot on his heels and Bill yelling with joking anger after him.

Hermione's eyes snapped up from where she had been quietly studying her hands when she heard Bill's raised voice coming closer; what in Merlin's name was he yelling about? When Charlie, flushed and breathless, burst through the front door, closely followed by Bill and Percy, both panting slightly, her mind flew into overdrive; her instincts fighting between jumping up and drawing her wand to engage whatever the danger was, throwing her arms around them (especially Bill) and making sure they were okay, or finding the nearest corner, rolling herself into a ball and protecting herself. As Ron took her hand, however, her thoughts halted and her brain froze, and she stayed sat where she was, smiling weakly as he beamed at her. If any of the Weasley's noticed how much she had tensed when the three eldest entered, or how she tensed even further when the youngest grabbed her hand, no-one commented on it. In fact, the only indicator that they had seen anything at all was that they all swiftly excused themselves from the room, Bill with a small frown gracing his brow and flecks of amber tinting his eyes.

Molly called through only moments later that Luna and Rolf had arrived and food would be served soon, and Ron jumped up at the prospect of eating, dragging Hermione with him. They met the Scamander-Lovegood couple in the kitchen and Ron, now on at least his fifth glass of whiskey- and that was just at the Burrow- greeted them both with warm hugs. "Hello Hermione." Rolf called when she hung back, uncertain about what her husband wanted her to do. "Are you okay?" His voice was light, but as she simply nodded in silent reply, he frowned and a concerned edge added to his tone. "You sure?"

She nodded again, not meeting his gaze, and he was about to question her further when Luna rested a hand on his arm. "Hermione?" She called out gently, noting the way that Ron had already moved to wrap his arm possessively around his wife's shoulders. Hiding her scowl, with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, she spoke again. "Hermione? How are you?"

Luna's words from earlier that week echoed through her thoughts. 'Just stay strong. If you don't...' As Ron squeezed her waist slightly, glaring at her disapprovingly when she didn't answer, she forced a smile onto her face and met the blonde woman's eyes. "I'm very well, thank you." She replied, voice as dead and empty as it had ever been before.

Whatever Looney Luna Lovegood saw in her old friends eyes when she finally looked up, no-one would ever know, but whatever it was caused her to briefly close her eyes as if in pain. When the silvery-blue orbs opened once more, they were blazing as they swiftly jumped from person to person in the room, lingering on Bill and Ron especially, whilst Molly started ushering people to the enlarged table in the next room. She gazed with undisguised sadness and regret at the bow-headed Hermione for a few moments, before slipping back into the persona they all knew her for, effortlessly enough for most to miss her despairing evaluation of the room. "I brought a Dirigible Plum tart I made for dessert." She told Molly in her dreamy voice.  
"Oh! Thank you dear, but you really didn't have to-"  
"I don't imagine many people here will like it." She continued vaguely. "The Dirigbles don't like men. You should like it though Mrs Weasley, the colour red makes the plums grow bigger." Molly blinked in confusion; no matter how long she had known the woman for, her odd comments and beliefs would never cease to surprise her. "Thank you for inviting us." She called as she drifted away, Rolf trailing after her with a small smile.  
"You're very welcome, dear." She murmured bemusedly, hitting George with her oven gloves when he snickered.

Before long, they were all sat around the table eating the beef roast dinner Molly had prepared, and Hermione found herself between Ron and Rolf, with Luna opposite, sat between Percy and George. "Where's Angie, George?" Arthur called down from the head of the table.  
He frowned. "In bed; she had a bit of a rough night last night so... I said I'd stay with her, but she promised she'd hex me. She does send her love though."  
"She must be due now, surely?" Molly asked, sounding thrilled.  
George paled; he and Angie had had quite a few pregnancies over the years, but all had ended in either still-born babies or miscarriages, and he was terrified that, though this seemed to be the healthiest yet, this would end in the same way. "Yeah." He muttered. "Any day now."

Hermione felt the almost unbearable urge to reach across and grab his hand, assure him that everything would eventually be fine, as she had done for fifteen years, since their first disastrous pregnancy, but Ron's hand on her thigh halted her. But as Molly started rambling about how exciting it all was, she couldn't take the tragic look on the ex-twins face any more. "She'll be okay." She murmured quietly to George, ignoring Ron's furious glare and telling herself that whatever he might do later; it was worth it. George started biting his lip in obvious fear, and she offered him a weak smile. "This is the best pregnancy you've had so far, and even if something terrible happens again, you'll both get through it, together. And when you are a father, George, and you _will_ be, you're going to be amazing."  
"Thanks 'Mione." He choked, tears filling his eyes as he ducked his face and hid it in his food.  
She risked a glance in Ron's direction, who between inhaling his large portion of food, managed a smile. "That was nice of you." He whispered in her ear, mouth full of gravy and potatoes. "But don't speak to other guys unless I say you can, okay?" She nodded and accepted his revolting kiss, biting back a gag at the mixture of starch and whiskey but still quiet. He frowned after swallowing, and hissed, "Aren't you going to apologise?"  
"I'm sorry Ron." She murmured obediently, and he smiled again.  
"I love you 'Mione."  
"I love you too Ron."

Luna, who had been watching the whispered encounter with barely-suppressed fury, suddenly spoke up. "Oh, Hermione," She began, dreamy voice back in place, "the Ministry were very grateful that we brought back the Half-Heads, though they were convinced they were actually an illegal cross-breed of some kind." She smiled lightly. "How is your project going? The one we talked about in the lift?"  
Everyone turned towards her in polite interest, but Ron cut in quickly. "Well it doesn't really matter now does it, love," He began, smiling widely as he stood, "I know you didn't want to make a big deal out of this, 'Mione, but, well; Hermione's quitting!"

Silence fell over the group, and everyone reacted visibly. Rolf raised an eyebrow in confusion, George tilted his head and looked at her in concern, Percy opened his mouth as if to yell but settled for glaring at his plate, Molly grinned in bemusement, Audrey frowned openly and Arthur watched. He watched as Luna's eyes became as hard as they had earlier in the kitchen (she was _mostly_ unnoticeable in her evaluation) and noted that she seemed to be furious, as even through her dreamy smile he could see her hands shaking slightly. He watched as Charlie threw an arm out to stop Bill, who clearly wanted to clamber over the table and beat Ron to a pulp, then proceeded to cast a glamour over his older brothers eyes, turning them from gold to blue once more. He watched Hermione's shoulders slump as she continued to look emptily at the table, only to smile timidly at Ron when he nudged her.

Ron, who was obviously irritated by the lack of excitement, bumped his shoulder with Hermione's and frowned. Confused, she gave him a forced smile as she watched her dreams of Avalon and teaching fly away, only to wince when, under the table, he stamped his booted foot onto hers crushingly. "I, erm, just want to spend some more time at home." She offered quietly, sure that at least one of her toes was broken.  
The group started stammering their congratulations, clearly unnerved and confused, except for Molly, who quickly ran around the table to pull her into a hug and exclaim that she and Ron could have more children. "Come on now, dear," She said affectionately after a few moments, "you have to eat some more! If you're planning to-"  
"Hermione's got enough, Mum." Ron interrupted. "She's trying to watch her weight, aren't you darling?"  
The group, in synch, looked from the slender Hermione, to the meagre amount that Ron had served to her at the beginning of the meal. "But, Hermione, you've only had one potato! And really, one slice of beef isn't enough, let's get you some more and-"  
"Mum, this is 'Mione's choice." Ron interrupted sharply.  
"But-"  
Arthur, who had been watching everyone with increasing concern, interrupted her. "Molly, dear, it's Hermione's choice. Respect it; I'm sure she has her reasons." The matriarch looked flustered but, if there was one person she would listen to, it was her husband. So with a huff of disapproval she returned to her seat next to Arthur and frowned at him, but he was too caught up in staring at their eldest.

The group had, again, all reacted to Hermione's apparent desire to 'diet', but none so more than Bill, who had needed both Charlie _and_ Percy to hold him back, as he strained to attack Ron. Looks of shock and disbelieving confusion had passed through the others, but in all three and, again, Luna, there was nothing short of fury. Bill's reaction, however, was perplexing and, if he was honest, alarming, to Arthur. The full moon had been last week, and though he had suspected something more than friendship between them years ago, his eldest sons reaction to what Ron had said was unnerving.

His quick mind- as Charlie had been correct in saying that he was an intelligent man- flicked from memory to memory; there was Bill after Fleur had left, laughing for the first time because of Hermione. There was Bill happier than he had ever seen him before, he and Hermione making weak excuses about where she was living and (he smirked to himself) various _paint_ marks. Then there was Bill arriving at the engagement party with his wife and daughter, Ginny suddenly being shocked into labour... And Hermione pregnant. He frowned and grimaced as tentative conversation began once more within the group. Next in his mind, there was Bill's look of disgust as he looked at Fleur and the adoring and- dear Merlin was it?- _loving_ look he held for Hermione. The way he held Rose. The way Ron always seemed to be overly possessive of his wife, especially when around his oldest brother. The way he had hurt Hermione. Bill's fury. Ron's fury.

Ron drinking. Bill wanting to leap over the table and pummel him.

Hermione silent, eyes downcast and flinching at loud noises.

Ron not letting his wife leave his side. Bill looking devastated.

Hermione silent, eyes downcast and barely speaking.

Ron ruining her. Bill loving her.

Hermione silent, eyes downcast and terrified. And broken.

As he finally caught his eldest son's eyes, he grimaced, before mouthing one sentence and watching as he nodded jerkily. 'See me later.'


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N** I'm ba-ack! I know last chapter was a bit horrid, but as crossy so rightfully said, abusers chip away at the abused until they feel completely trapped. I'll repeat what I said last time though; if this is happening to you, you are not alone. There are so many people out there who can help, please get in touch with them.

Huge thanks, of course, to crossy and bookworm, you two make all the grief of writing this worth it! And with regards to endings, I'll say only this; a tear or two may be shed... Thanks as well to ndavis, hope you have a happy holiday too!

 **Disclaimer:** All I want for Christmas is to go to Hogwarts... But it's not mine... (*cries*)... Everything recognisable is JK's!

And, as always... Enjoy!

 **Chapter 17**

Hermione never got to try Luna's Derigible Plum tart; even if she had wanted to, Ron had quickly and 'helpfully' reminded her that she wanted to lose weight, so she shouldn't have pudding. At his insistent look she had quietly thanked him and ignored her almost-empty stomach for the rest of the time, only finding solace in the fact that Ron didn't seem angry with her again. Though the firewhiskeys he continued to drink terrified her.

George left soon after dessert, not wanting to leave Angelina alone for too long, and hugged her tightly as he went. Ron, happily, was deep in discussion with Rolf about the Quidditch League standings, so didn't see the embrace. No matter how friendly or brotherly the action was, no doubt her husband would misunderstand and become furious. This led to, before George could even question her odd behaviour, Hermione hastening back to Ron's side and putting her placid smile back in place, kissing him lightly when he tapped his cheek.

Less than an hour later, Luna had hugged Hermione as she left, whispering that her and Rolf's home was always open, should she have a need to 'just relax and smell the Pimple Roses', and Percy had repeated the offer of safety, saying that he and Audrey would be happy to have her around, whatever the occasion, or indeed for no occasion at all. However, as Ron had kept his arm around her waist for the farewells, there was little else that they could say before disapparating. Many hours later, Ron, after taking a large advantage of his parent's alcoholic spirit cupboard, finally announced that he wanted to go home, and left, of course, with Hermione. This left Bill, Charlie and their parents alone, and a herd of elephants in the room.

"So," Molly began in an overly enthusiastic voice, "are you coming back home Charlie? Taking the Wales Reserve offer?"  
He stuttered. "I'm not sure yet."  
"Oh, but you should! I have _so_ many people you should meet!"  
"Mum-"  
"And why would you even want to stay there? It's so far away and-"  
"Mum-"  
"The climate and area is awful so-"

"Mum! I'm considering moving back!" Charlie finally yelled, scowling and taking a large drink. Molly, predictably, squealed in delight and descended on her second child, whilst Bill rolled his eyes and Arthur smiled affectionately. "Oh, that's so brilliant!" The woman began, before promptly sobbing. "It would be s-so nice to see y-you!" Mrs Weasley, who had developed a habit of drinking Cointreau when stressed, had clearly felt the tension during the meal and was really rather drunk. Arthur, recognising this, convinced her to go to bed, walking her up and reassuring her that everything was okay.  
"What do we say?" Charlie whispered. Bill merely shrugged.

When Arthur returned, and sat opposite Bill, his eyes flicking to the side where Charlie sat, he sighed. "Before you begin, I want you to know that I love my children, and will support and defend them through anything."  
Bill nodded. "I-"  
"That includes the children that aren't mine by blood." Arthur interrupted. "I think there are a few things you need to tell me, are you happy with Charlie being here?"  
Bill gazed at him seriously. "If it was any other of my brothers, I would ask them to leave. But I'm more than happy to have him here. If, of course, he's happy to stay."  
Charlie gave a grim smile. "I'll always be here for you."  
Arthur frowned disbelievingly. "Are you sure you are ready to hear whatever the heck Bill is going to tell me?"  
He grimaced. "I already know these things, and to be honest Dad, I'll probably know more than you ever will."

Their father clenched his hands and grated his teeth, before glaring at his eldest. "There is obviously something that has the ability to _ruin_ our whole family, and I'm guessing that Hermione and Percy know about it." Charlie gave an irritated noise, but Arthur merely waved his hand. "Of course you already know, Charlie, I didn't need to say that. It's very clear. So, fancy telling me what is going on?"  
Bill frowned and was rendered speechless for a moment. "Well," He finally began, "Hermione is in... Trouble. Percy knows, but he doesn't know how bad it is. She didn't want to tell him that... Well, she's in a difficult place-"  
"Bill,-"  
"He's abusing her." Bill dead-panned, eyes golden and fists clenched, throwing all plans of silence away.  
Arthur cringed, but Charlie stepped in with a miserable voice, "It's happened for a while, Dad, since the funeral, at least."  
Mr Weasley slumped further into his chair and scrunched his eyes up in distress. "Dear Merlin." He breathed. "I suppose you're talking about Ron?"  
Bill and Charlie glanced at one another cautiously. "Yes." Charlie finally said. "And he needs help, Dad."  
Arthur studied his two sons for a while, before sighing. "As horrific as what you just told me is, that's not all, is it? Bill?"  
Said man raised his head, but not his tear-filled eyes. "No." He choked. "It's not all." He raised his face to met his fathers, nothing short of desperation in his expression, as he whispered, "There's so much going on Dad. So much that's happened, so much that might happen, so much that I _want_ to happen. And I'm scared, Dad."

Arthur scratched is head thoughtfully, looking despairing. "Ron's my son too." He murmured eventually.  
"We know, Dad, that's why we need to get him help." Charlie cut in swiftly.  
He nodded slowly, before looking steadily at Bill. "But with regards to Hermione, there's... More?"  
Charlie, noticing that Bill seemed to be inconsolably speechless, saved him once more. "Yeah, Dad, there's a lot more. Bill-"  
"You don't want to know." Bill whispered quietly, meeting his father's eyes grimly. "There are things that you honestly don't want to know."  
Arthur gave another slow nod, before standing. "Come with me, son."

Charlie, understanding the polite dismissal, stated that he'd see Bill back at Shell Cottage later, and promptly left, leaving Bill to follow their father outside, thoroughly confused.  
Arthur led him to the shed outside, opening the door and beckoning him inside silently. Bill frowned before entering, standing to the side as his Dad sat on the bonnet of the old Ford Anglia casually. "Dad, what-"  
"I hurt you here." He murmured. "I cut your cheek."  
"It doesn't matter, Dad, it-"

He held up a hand and met his eyes seriously. "Let me finish, Bill. I _did_ hurt you here; in fact there's an awful lot of pain in this shed." He stood and patted the blue car affectionately. "I spent months, _months_ , working on this car, even when everyone thought I was crazy. No, don't Bill, I know everyone thought I was insane for trying to bring this car back." He sighed heavily. "And sometimes, son, you just have to give up. Sometimes things just can't come back." Bill clenched his eyes and fists in despair; his Dad was as good as telling him to give up on Hermione. But when he finally looked up again, it was to see Arthur giving a faint smile. "Sometimes that does happen," He continued, as he opened the door of the Ford casually, "but sometimes..." He sat himself in the drivers seat smoothly. "If you have enough hope, and put enough dedication, commitment, and love into something," His piercing gaze drilled into him, before the edges of his mouth turned up, as he turned the key in the ignition and the car roared into life, "sometimes it all works out."

Bill gasped in amazement. "You fixed it!" He yelled happily. "You actually fixed the Anglia!"  
Arthur nodded slightly. "Yes, son, I made something happen that _no-one_ thought I could make happen." He chuckled slightly. "Even something that might seem impossible is achievable, if you care about it enough." Patting the steering wheel lovingly, he smiled again. "I refused to give up on this, and seeing it come back..." He beamed. "Well, son, it makes all the heartache and effort worth it. Heck, it even makes people thinking I was insane worth it. But I haven't told your mother yet so..."  
He grinned at his father. "Our secret, sure. I'm really proud of you Dad, I think what you've done is amazing. I'm so glad."  
Arthur tilted his head and fixed him with intense eyes. "Do you have something you're willing to give all your time to Bill? Something that will require patience and dedication, and will most likely make people think you're mental? Something, or some _one_ that's worth hoping for, even if it will most likely end in heartbreak?"

He didn't answer immediately, but thought over his father's words seriously. He was right, of course; the odds were very much set against he and Hermione, especially considering what had happened earlier in the night. He seemed to have lost her once more, and given the logic Percy had made him realise, he may never even know why. So perhaps he should give up, divorce Fleur yet still avoid Ron and 'Mione. Give up on seeing the special smile she saved just for him again. Give up on feeling their bodies pressed together again, whether in passion, sleep or simple love. Give up on the shining future that, for the first time in fifteen years, had seemed a possibility.

And then he thought. He thought about that radiant smile that could brighten the darkest of his days. He thought about waking up to her naked form against his chest, a peaceful look on her face. He thought about the months they had had, and the years they could have. And his eyes welled up with tears.  
"Yes." He said quietly. "Yes, it's worth it. Even if it doesn't work out, even if my world comes crashing down, even if it ends with my heart being broken again, it's worth trying."  
Arthur promptly ducked out of the car and pulled him into a tight hug. "She's lucky." He whispered into Bill's ear. "She's so lucky, and I hope _so much_ that you get her back." Pulling back, he gave a tired smile. "I love all of my children. I love you and Ron. I also love her; I've loved my daughter since her Hogwarts days, even if she isn't mine by blood. We'll get Ron help, but I also want you to be happy, Bill."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "What if I can't do it? Dad, what if I can't bring the 'Ford Anglia' back?"  
Arthur's expression became soft. "Then you try. You told me that she's worth trying for, so just try."  
He gritted his teeth. "I'm scared. I'm scared that something's going to happen to her, before I can get her out."  
"You're not alone in getting her out, so-"  
"Dad, I can't shake this feeling that something... Terrible, is going to happen."  
"Bill, things will work out. One way or another, they will. Remember, it's not just dedication and love you need; it's also patience."

Bill nodded slowly. "You're right." After another swift hug and 'macho' slaps on the backs, he cleared his throat. "Thanks, Dad. I really... Well, I needed this chat. I guess I'd better get back before Charlie drinks all my beer!"  
Arthur nodded. "Of course, Bill, you have a good night. See you next Sunday?"  
Bill nodded and began to leave, but as he opened the door, he halted. "Hey, Dad?"  
"Yes?"  
Will a brilliant grin he turned back. "Maybe next Saturday I can come round, and we can go for a drive?"  
Arthur beamed, both looking with equal pride at one another. "I'd love that."  
"See you then. Thanks again." And with that he strolled from the Burrow, feeling that maybe his happily-ever-after was in sight. Little did he know that the next two months would be some of the worst of his life.

...

On Saturday, nearly a week after the somewhat awkward dinner at the Burrow, Hermione woke up early and alone. Rising in silence and dressing in some sweat-pants and a shapeless sweater, she went downstairs and made herself some coffee, looking with some longing at the toaster. But no, she was on a diet, apparently, and that meant that coffee was enough. Even without Ron in the house, she didn't dare to anger him. Even when she had returned on Sunday with him, and she had found a bra that definitely didn't belong to her in their bed, then he'd promptly disappeared, she didn't dare upset him. So, every morning she woke up and made coffee for two, glared at the toaster and the bacon in the fridge, and quietened herself. He had appeared only once in those six days, and she had cooked for him, accepted his insults on the nearly immaculately clean house, hugged and kissed and told him she loved him. Yet, through all of that... Through the gratitude that he didn't emotionally ruin her children again. Through the despairing guilt that he wasn't there every second of every day and that made her _glad._ Through the relief that he didn't hit her or... Rape her, again.

She had only one thought. Anger and Guilt and Sorrow and Common Sense and Love. _Bill, I'm so sorry._

Bill's Saturday, however, started rather differently. He awoke to a loud argument between Louis, Dominique and Charlie, seemingly regarding the best sweet fillings for pancakes; the traditional sugar and lemon, Nutella and raspberries, or simple chocolate sauce. He yawned loudly before smiling as he dressed in some casual pants and a comfortable sweater, then going downstairs quickly. Kissing Dom and Louis's heads lovingly, he scowled at Charlie when he touched his own head with a pout. Pouring a mug of coffee from the batch his brother had made earlier, he sat and solved the argument. "Well, Dom, Lemon and sugar is great. Char, just chocolate sauce is... Alright. But I have to go with Louis; Nutella and raspberries."  
Louis whooped whilst the other two groaned, but moments later, as he asked if they'd like to see the Welsh Dragon Reserve, all arguments were forgotten.

For in that week, he had, as planned, seen Louis and Dominique when they returned from their trip to Aunt Gabrielle's, and had asked Victoire if she would stop by Shell Cottage too. After a heartfelt reunion between the four, Bill had followed through with his plan to discuss the possibility of divorce, and to his delighted shock the three others had merely shrugged and mumbled that they'd expected something like this for a while. At Bill's gentle prodding, they confessed that the sometimes months of separation from their parents had not gone unnoticed by them, and Dominique had even, awkwardly, mentioned that her mum's 'special friend' Antoine seemed a bit too 'special' to them. Following this, they had all embraced their tearful Dad tightly, not knowing that his emotional overwhelming was of relief, rather than grief.

The week since then had been filled with humour and happiness as he reconnected with the two youngest, with Vicky stopping by a few times during, and the cheer was only augmented by the fact that Charlie had decided to stay in Britain for a few weeks longer. When Bill, on Monday morning, had questioned how he had been given permission from the Romanian Reserve, he had winked cheekily and said, "They're so desperate to stop me from transferring to Wales, they'd most likely give me half a year off if I asked."  
He had laughed at this and punched his arm lightly. "Careful, if your head gets any bigger it won't fit in the house."  
"Erm, I actually meant to say, I owled the Leaky Cauldron and they've got some rooms available, long term, if-"  
"Don't be stupid, of course you're staying here." Bill had interrupted with a smile.  
"Are you sure? I mean, with two kids, and Fleur maybe coming back, it could get pretty crowded, and I don't want to get in the way."  
Bill rolled his eyes. "Why do you think I looked for a house with two spare bedrooms? It's so I could have you or another friend over whenever. Louis and Dom love sharing a room; they're young and think they can get away with talking together after their bedtime."  
Charlie chuckled. "Well, I appreciate it, mate, thanks."

"No problem." He peered curiously at his brother. "Why are you staying, anyway? Are you leaning towards moving back permanently?"  
He shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe. I mean, I loved the Welsh Reserve, and I've got a meeting with the manager on Saturday, but..." Sighing heavily, he had sipped his coffee silently for few moments before, at Bill's prompting, he'd continued. "I want to be here for Hermione and Ron. I want to be able to help them out, you know, with everything." Bill had nodded with grim understanding, as Hermione was never far from his thoughts. and every night since then the pair sat down after the children had gone to bed (to sleep- obviously _not_ to discuss how they planned to break into the shed outside and take a ride on the old broomstick in there- honest!) and they discussed the situation with their brother and his wife, what could have happened, and how best to proceed. They had been hoping to hear from Arthur all week, to no avail, yet still waited every day for an owl.

Now, it was Saturday, and as they hadn't heard from their Dad, they were very concerned, and Bill was looking forward to the drive he had planned later on. But first, he had organised, through Charlie, to take the kids to his potential workplace, and give them a tour whilst his brother considered returning to Wales. It had been a surprise treat, hence why his announcement of them seeing the dragons ended the pancake argument and made the youngsters squeal in excitement. Once they had run out of the room, the men smiled. "So, looking forward to seeing Dad today?" Charlie asked with feigned casualness.  
Bill scowled slightly. "I'm going to ask him if he's spoken to the love of my life's abusive husband, who also happens to be my brother. What do you think?"  
Charlie grimaced. "Not looking forward to it then?"  
With a sigh, he shrugged. "Well, I want to know what's going on, so I guess I'm not _dreading_ it, but he said a few things last weekend that kind of made me think that somehow things would be okay. So not hearing from him, well, it puts me on edge."

"Understandably." Charlie nodded. "What did Dad say to you last weekend?"  
Bill fidgeted slightly. "He made me think about whether chasing Hermione was worth the possible heartache."  
"And is she?"  
"Yes, she really is. When I said that, he pretty much gave his blessing for me to try."  
"So he knows about you and 'Mione?"  
"He didn't say it directly, but yes."  
"And Rose?"  
"He-"

"What about a rose?" Louis called as he and Dom ran in. "Are you talking about cousin Rose?"  
"Umm..." Charlie replied awkwardly, but Bill swiftly cut in.  
"Yes, we were. We were saying how jealous she and Hugo are going to be that you guys get to see the dragons first!" The children cheered and threw their arms around Bill, and he hugged them tightly, smiling with only a touch of bitter-sweet sadness. "Now, you two, Uncle Charlie and I are going to get dressed properly, and then we'll go, okay?"  
At their cheers, the older pair headed upstairs, the younger gazing at his brother when they hit the landing. "You okay?" He asked quietly.  
Bill shook his head, thinking as he did so often of Hermione. "Something's going to happen, Char. I just... I just know it."  
"Hey, we've never had a Seer in the family, and we're fixing things, so relax, okay?" Bill nodded and they parted, he to put on some jeans and a t-shirt, and Charlie to don his finest dragon-resistant clothing. Moments later, they had departed Shell Cottage to leave for the Reserve, Bill and Charlie both tense but, most importantly to them, the children thrilled.

...

Meanwhile, Hermione was once again scrubbing the kitchen counter with a detached vigour. There was a spot that would just _not go away_. Sure, she could've vanished it with magic, but there was something satisfying about the physical labour, and cleaning the Muggle way was a habit that was soothing to her. It made her think of home, and as Ron had demanded she burn the last letter from her parents when he had arrived on Tuesday night, she needed a homely feel, no matter how small. Her thoughts drifted to her Mum and Dad as she attacked that damn spot, and of how much she missed them, having not seen them since a few weeks before she had gone to her cottage. Instinctively she glanced around her, as if Ron would be there and hearing what she was thinking but, to her relief, he was once again absent.

From the heartache she felt about missing her parents, her mind swiftly flicked, as it so often did, to Bill. And Merlin, she missed him. The guilt about not speaking to him, not explaining what had happened, was burning through her shattered heart like the worst fiendfyre imaginable. But, not only was she terrified of what Ron might do to her, she was terrified of what he might do to Bill. If he found out somehow, or even heard a rumour, that she had spoken to Bill, with his drinking and recent anger issues, he would most likely attack them both. Family or not, and given how he was right now, she wouldn't put it past him killing them both. A shudder ran through her as she accepted the truth of her words, and the unspoken worry she couldn't seem to shake; someone was going to end up dead.

Her fierce scrubbing was interrupted by a tap at the window, and she quickly opened it and let Hugo's ebony owl, Nisha, in. "Hello, girl." She cooed at the bird, who was midway between chick and fully-grown owl, therefore a medium size, still rather fluffy and undeniably adorable. "Do you have a letter from Hugo?" The owl dropped the letter in her hand and hooted happily, making Hermione give her first genuine smile in a week. "Hey, you must be tired, you've had to come all the way here! How about you have a drink and a nap. Actually, I might have some owl treats left..." She turned and began rooting through the cupboards, before finally finding the box and grinning triumphantly. "Here you go."

She sat down as Nisha dug in to the tray of treats and opened her son's letter curiously. "What the-" She speed-read the note, frowning and feeling close to tears as her son expressed his concern for her, and questioned whether she was still planning to leave Ron. She penned a quick reply, reassuring him that she and his Dad had worked things out, and to not worry about them. After the standard 'hope your studies are going well' and 'send my love to Rosie', she began looking for a package of Muggle sweets to send him with her reply, only to find the usual stashes she had hidden everywhere empty.

She gnawed her lip anxiously as she considered her options; she could forget the sweets, but they were also running low on other essentials, so she had to go out anyway. But then again, if Ron came home and she wasn't there, or if she ran into a male friend and Skeeter caught them again, well- simply the thought of what Ron might do made her shudder. After gazing unseeingly for a few moments as her own owl begrudgingly moved to allow Nisha access to the perch, she rose on shaky feet and grabbed her bag, resolving to simply apparate to the nearest Muggle store, grab what she needed and be back within half an hour. Grateful that she had had the sense to continue carrying a few Muggle notes, she ducked outside before she could talk herself out of her decision, breathing in deeply and marvelling at how staying indoors for a week had made her miss fresh air so much.

She apparated to an alley behind the first store she could think of, ducking her head around the corner to check for other people before stepping out. She practically ran through the aisles, throwing toilet paper and milk haphazardly into her Bag for Life, before reaching the sweets area and skidding to a halt. She half-considered revealing the existence of the whole wizarding world by disapparating there and then, but although the prospect of being thrown in Azkaban was less horrifying than the idea of staying where she was, she didn't have a chance to move. Because just as she rounded the corner and froze, the man at the end of the row looked up and met her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N** Bit of a shorter chapter today, just to solve last chapters mini cliffhanger and, of course, leave you with another! We're really coming up to the home stretch now, I imagine it'll be finished before New Years, so my bad for going off plan!

Thanks, as always to bookworm and Crossy- I really do appreciate you guys taking the time to review- and to everyone else who has favourited, followed, or are simply enjoying reading; I hope you continue to do so!

 **Chapter 18**

"That was so amazing!"  
"The Chinese Fireballs were so cool! I can't believe how far their flames went!"  
"They weren't as awesome as the Norwegian Ridgebacks! We even saw the one Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry saved! What's she called again?"  
"Norberta! I liked the Hebridian Blacks more than them though, I mean..."

Charlie and Bill smiled at one another as they exited the reserve, the two children running ahead and arguing over which species they preferred. "So how'd your meeting go?" Bill asked tentatively.  
Charlie rubbed his hands together and glanced at him from the side. "Um, well," He paused, extending the word dramatically, "I'm moving back to Wales!"  
"Seriously?! That's great!" Bill clapped him on the back, grinning. "How did they manage to convince you?"  
His brother shrugged. "On-site living arrangements, an expansion planned for next year, and a _very_ nice raise. Besides, I was leaning towards staying anyway, being closer to the family and everything. I'll can't start working until I serve my notice at Romania, but as I'm on holiday anyway..." He shrugged again, as if to say, 'what can they do?'  
"Well it sounds like an awesome offer, and I'm glad you're going to be sticking around."  
Charlie nodded. "I'm not allowed to move into the place they have on-site until I officially start working there, so I'll be staying with you for a while longer, if that's okay?"  
"I've already told you, you're welcome to stay for as long as you want."

After murmuring his thanks, the pair continued in silence for a few moments, only speaking when Bill yelled at Louis and Dominique to not run too far ahead in the barren Welsh countryside. "Come on," Said man began eventually, "there's obviously another reason you took the job." Charlie raised his eyebrows, making Bill smirk. "You're my brother; I know you."  
He sighed in amusement. "Well, there was _one_ other reason..."  
"Yeeees?"  
"Toni's coming back to the Welsh Reserve. She's starting in half a year or so." He mumbled with embarrassment.  
Bill's smile grew. "Well, would you look at that; my little brother moving country for a woman! I never thought I'd see the day." He teased playfully.  
"I only mention it because she's a good keeper!" He argued back unconvincingly.  
"Oh, I know you think she's a keeper." He laughed.  
Charlie turned scarlet. "Well, I mean she was- I was- we- I haven't seen her for years! She could be married!"  
"She could still be single."  
"Well yeah, but she could _not_ be. Besides, we were never really that serious, so even if she _is_ single, she probably won't, you know, want to try. Not that I would want to. I mean, it wasn't serious, so..."  
Bill rolled his eyes. "Charlie, she was the first girlfriend you've introduced to us since you were in school; she clearly meant a lot to you."

He shuffled and muttered incoherently before, in an act of obvious avoidance, yelled, "Hey, kids, want to get some Muggle sweets?"  
Bill sighed. "Gee, thanks, now they'll fill themselves up on sweets and not eat their dinner."  
"Hey, those are our roles." Charlie replied cheerfully. "I'm the cool Uncle and you're the miserable Dad!"  
The children came up, excited by the Muggle sweets that they so rarely indulged in, and Bill rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dad!" Louis called loudly. "Let's apparate to London! Come on!"  
"No need." He replied smoothly. "There's a small country town about five minutes from here. We can walk there, maybe burn off some of your energy!" He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, chuckling when he ducked in embarrassment.  
"How do you know that, Dad?" Dom asked curiously, and he smiled sadly.  
"I came here once, a long time ago."

 _The thunderstorm had come unexpectedly, interrupting their walk through the Welsh countryside they had noticed around the edge of the Dragon Reserve and making them both squeal in shock before laughing and chasing one another towards the nearby lights they saw. Before long they had found a convenience store and, hiding beneath the awning, burst into new peals of laughter at each others waterlogged appearance.  
_ " _Where the hell did that come from?" Hermione exclaimed, panting slightly.  
_ " _More importantly, why didn't we just apparate?" Bill replied, grinning when she opened and closed her mouth silently before scowling.  
_ " _Why didn't you suggest that before we ran all this way?"  
_ _He shrugged. "What can I say?" Giving a sly wink, he leant down and whispered, "I like seeing you wet."  
_ _She gasped in mock indignation, slapping his arm playfully and grinning. "Hmm, is that so Mr Weasley? Well, when we get home I'll have to take a shower to get this mud off. I'm sure I'll get all kinds of 'wet' then."  
_ _He pulled her closer and ran his lips against the skin behind her ear, smirking as she gave a shudder of desire. "I suppose we'd better get you home and clean you up then."  
_ _She gave a small smile, running her hand down his chest teasingly. "I suppose we'd better." Just as his eyes were darkening, his breathing becoming shallower and his lips parting to kiss her, she stepped back impishly. "But first, as we're here, I might as well do some shopping."_

 _She laughed as he gave her an affronted look, before he halted her progress to the door, grabbing her arm and spinning her back into his arms. "What are you doing?" She giggled.  
_ _He smiled softly as he raised her hand, kissing the rose ring on her finger. "I love you." He murmured, brushing some of the soaked strands of hair from her face.  
_ _She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down until their foreheads touched. "I love you too."  
_ _He bumped their noses gently before closing the distance and catching her lips in a searing kiss that, though sweet and innocent, warmed them both from their flooded shoes to the drenched roots of their hair. "C'mon," He murmured eventually, moving back, "shopping then home."  
_ _She shook her head and pressed their bodies together, reaching on her tip-toes to recapture his lips. "Forget the shopping." She whispered, reinstating and deepening the kiss whilst they stumbled round the edge of the shop to find a safe apparation point. For a few minutes they forgot both going home and the rain that was once more pelting them as they stood in the back alley; they were too consumed with exploring each others mouths and bodies again. If a passer-by hadn't wolf-whistled loudly at the pair, they might well have made love there and then, but luckily they sprang apart at the sound and looked at one another sheepishly._

" _Home?" Bill panted.  
_ _Hermione, thoroughly flushed, nodded. "Home."_

"Dad? Da-ad?"  
"Bill?" He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present and smiling at the other three. "All right there?" Charlie asked in concern.  
"Yeah. Sorry, I just faded out for a minute there." He replied with a grin. "So, kids, sweets?" Louis and Dominique grabbed one of his hands each and began dragging him in earnest, making him chuckle. "Guys, it's that way." He nodded his head in the opposite direction and they quickly turned and pulled him that way instead, Charlie following behind and laughing heartily.  
They reached the town in next to no time, and as soon as the store came into sight the children ran forward, giggling at the Muggle automatic door. "You two, stay close!" He called, smiling as they stopped and began hopping from one foot to the other impatiently. "Okay," He began as the foursome looked for the sweet aisle, "you can get five things; one for now, one for after dinner and you can save the other three for tomorrow."

"Orrr," Dom said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "we can get _ten_ things each; two for now, two for after dinner, and then have the rest over the next couple of days."  
Bill rolled his eyes. "Or, you can get seven; one now, two after dinner and four over the next couple of days."  
"Orrr-" Louis started, but Charlie cut him off.  
"Or we can stop this and go home." The pair quietened whilst the adults smirked, and they finally found the brightly coloured shop row they were looking for.  
"Seven?" Dominique asked hopefully, and Bill nodded, smiling.

He idly watched as the pair fell to the shelves, his mind drifting once more to his last time in this town. The feel of her skin against his lips, the warmth of her body as his hands slipped under her drenched clothes, her mouth against his own, the tenderness of her voice as she whispered her love for him. The way the rain plastered her seemingly dark hair to her cheeks, which themselves were blushed with arousal, her eyes sparkling with love and desire, raindrops falling from each individual eyelash as she smiled against his kisses. The small moan of need she gave when he lightly bit and kissed the sensitive part of her neck, the way she fit like a puzzle piece in his arms, the way his heart leapt to his throat every time she smiled, or kissed him, or told him she loved him. And just like that, he glanced up, and just as it always did from the simplest things, it happened. All she was doing was standing there, and his heart skipped a beat. "Hermione."

She saw him whisper her name, and wanted to do nothing other than throw herself into his arms and never let go. Her mind slipped back in time to their last time here, and she suppressed a shudder of desire; clearly what she thought had been a random choice of store had in fact been her subconscious thoughts of Bill. She fought the urge to run forward and instead forced herself to step back, the vivid nightmares she frequently had of Ron attacking Bill at the forefront of her mind. However, she hadn't managed more than a foot before Louis, Dominique and Charlie, who she hadn't previously noticed, saw her and the two children ran forward in excitement. "Aunt 'Mione!" Dominique called, and like a violent slap to the face she was back to the horrific day of George and Angelina's engagement party, when Fleur had arrived on Bill's arm and Victoire had run towards her just as her sister was doing now.

"Hey kids!" She called with forced cheer, as she hugged them both. "What are you guys doing here?"  
"Getting some Muggle sweets." Dom smiled.  
"We're allowed ten each!"  
Louis added, scowling when Charlie yelled, "Seven!" Said man strolled over somewhat hesitantly, smiling nervously at her. "Hiya, 'Mione, how're you?"  
She shrugged. "You know. Okay, I guess. You?"  
"I'm good, thanks."

"Hermione." Bill's rich, husky voice alone sent shivers through her, and though she didn't burst into tears when she met his deep blue, amber flecked eyes, it took a lot of effort not to.  
"Bill." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but she still saw him take a shuddering breath and exhale sharply.  
"Are you... Are you okay?" She shrugged in reply, staring determinedly at his shoulder. "How are things at home?"  
Her eyes snapped up in fear and she bit her lip. "Things are- things are okay I guess."  
He stepped forward began to move as if he was going to embrace her, but Charlie snapped his arm out and halted him, hissing under his breath, "Bill, don't." He paused and Hermione's eyes widened. Had they given up on her? Had her appearing with Ron the other night been the last straw? Had he finally decided that the heartache wasn't worth the risk? And Charlie was clearly helping him to stay away from her, at least as much as he could.

She couldn't blame him, either of them, if she was honest with herself. Hadn't she given up herself? Still, though, the reality of seeing Charlie physically prevent Bill from even touching her made her heart break that little bit more. Blinking rapidly to stop her tears, she crouched down and, reaching into her purse, found two pound coins and gave them to Louis and Dominique. "Here, get yourselves a couple more things." She told them, smiling when they thanked her and returned to perusing the shelves at the other end of the aisle. "Well, I'm in kind of a rush so I guess I'll see you both soon." She murmured to the floor, already moving away when she was halted.

"Hermione, I'm... We're..." Charlie seemed lost for words. "Stay safe."  
She nodded and once more began to leave, when Bill stepped around his brother and grabbed her hand lightly, ignoring Charlie's sigh and eye-roll. Her eyes once more met his as he stepped close to her, their faces close enough for her to count the freckles on his nose and feel his breath against her cheek. She parted her lips in shocked anticipation, and his eyes darkened at the action, before he swallowed thickly. "Don't give up." He started in a hoarse whisper, sounding almost as if he were begging her. "I know things are... I know, but don't give up, Hermione. Please."  
She felt a curious mixture rushed through her body; relief that he hadn't abandoned her, despair that she couldn't give him the answer that she so desperately wanted to, and fear that Ron would somehow find out about this. "I have to go." She whispered. "Be happy, Bill. Please."

She forced herself to turn back and walk away, able to appear outwardly calm until she reached the frozen area at the back of the shop, where she promptly slipped to the ground and began sobbing silently. Many people gave her curious looks as they passed, and many asked if she needed help, but after a few minutes she was able to gather herself and finish her shopping, shuddering as she picked up Hugo's sweets and could swear that Bill's scent was still on the air. She finished on the medicine row, glaring murderously at the shelf as if she could disintegrate it with her gaze alone. But, even if she used her wand she doubted she would be able to blow so much as a hole into one of tubes of toothpaste; her magic had been embarrassingly weak in the past few days. It had gone from being brilliant to practically non-existent, her wand little more than a stick of wood she held simply out of habit. This was one of the early symptoms that led her to be stood where she was, trying to control her breathing and decide what to do. Finally, shaking slightly, she grabbed a box and went to pay, caught between wishing that she could travel three weeks into the future, and dreading what she would find there.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N** Thanks once more to the reviewers; Eliza, I'm really glad that you like my writing, and I can understand your frustration, but... Well unfortunately there are places which don't have shelters, and families that would much rather turn the other cheek or try to help in all the wrong ways... I really hope that you continue to read, and huge support to the shelter near you. Also, major love to you for actually being aware of the shelter; so often in these cases awareness is one of the biggest problems, and I think it's a wonderful testament to you as a person that you know and think about the affects of abuse. Well done you!

Bookworm; You just want smut don't you XD

Crossy; I won't tell you if you're right or wrong in your predictions, that would ruin the story! But let's just say that her magic is disappearing for a reason, and that reason could change everything... DUN DUH DAHHHH!

 **Disclaimer:** Still not happened. HP belongs to Jo Rowling.

Of course, as always, enjoy.

 **Chapter 19**

Three weeks seemed to pass in no time for everyone; Bill's life remained much the same with looking after the children, dropping them off at the Burrow with Molly or leaving them with Charlie when he went to work. The only notable difference had been the divorce papers he had signed his half of and then sent to the last address he knew of Fleur's, with a short note explaining to her that acceptance was non-negotiable and if need be, he would go to the Wiznegmot with charges of infidelity and blackmail and force the separation on her. Though he hadn't heard back from her yet, he was feeling satisfyingly positive about the progress in dissolving his sham of a marriage.

In helping Hermione, however, he and the others were still at a blank. When he had taken the drive with his Dad shortly after he last saw her, it had been to find out, disappointingly, that Ron seemed to be avoiding Arthur as much as he was everyone else, and he hadn't had a chance to talk to his youngest son. Every Sunday dinner since, there had been multiple dodging on the behalf of the youngest, and though Arthur continued to try to speak to Ron, and almost everyone else attempted to speak to Hermione, there was no satisfaction to their actions. Bill was only halted from hexing his brother by Charlie and Percy's words or, in same cases, physical restraints.

As he sat at every Sunday dinner, he heard her voice in his mind. Not the scared, uncertain and terrified voice she'd used recently, but the voice he knew and loved. _Her_ voice, her true self. Not the 'person' that Ron had created. He and his brothers still couldn't think what could've happened to make Hermione, well, not be Hermione. _"I love how your eyes get amber flecks in them"_ Bill's head was swimming at the latest Burrow Sunday dinner, as he glanced at Hermione " _I love how, when you kiss me, it just feels right."_ But when the next statement was made, his world plummeted and simultaneously rocketed, because he would not let another child go away again. _"I love you."_

 _..._

An hour earlier, Hermione had been knelt on the bathroom floor, vomiting what felt like her entire stomach lining. She'd been in the room for almost an hour, from when she'd hesitantly pulled the muggle pregnancy test from its hiding place to when it had showed positive and she started heaving, and she had no intention of leaving any time soon. Her husband, however, had other ideas, and he barged into the room and looked at her with disgust. "You'd better not be sick, we have to be at Mum's in an hour. Clean yourself up and sort yourself out."  
She closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. "I'm not ill, Ron." She whispered quietly, handing over the plastic stick that, every time she looked at it, made her feel more nauseous.  
"What the fuck am I meant to do with this?" He snapped.  
She sighed. "It's a pregnancy test. The lines mean it's positive." He blinked a few times and for a few moments she was sure he would hit her. True, he hadn't touched her in weeks, but the bland look he was wearing terrified her all the same. "Say something," She asked meekly, "please?"  
His face suddenly broke out in a grin and he hugged her tightly. "This is fantastic! Another baby, brilliant!" She tried to match his enthusiasm, but his words only made more bile rise in her throat, and she dry-heaved into the toilet, her thoughts turning immediately to Bill. She had slept with both of them once (if the 'incident' with Ron could be classified as sex), and neither had been with protection, so... Who was the father?

…

Ron stood and beamed at the collection of Weasleys and spouses, sans George and Angelina as she was due any day now. "Hermione's pregnant!"  
The effect was instantaneous, even if it wasn't quite what Ron had expected. Molly, at least, did as was usual, and squealed in delight, before beginning a long lecture about how thin Hermione was and how she had to have second, third _and_ fourth helpings of everything. Ron 'helpfully' added that just because she was pregnant didn't mean she needed to get fat. Molly had spluttered and admonished her son and generally been horrified, until Arthur had taken her hand, sat her down and, with a glance at Bill, said, "I'm sure Ron and Hermione can work out a healthy eating plan, dear."

The other members of the family, extended and surrogate, seemed less enthused by the couple's pregnancy. Arthur's jaw had promptly fallen open, before he had the sense to shut it and restrain Molly. Luna, who was always a welcome guest along with Rolf, practically hissed, and spent her time darting her eyes between Hermione, Bill and Ron. Neville, who had attended with Hannah, merely looked confused at the hostile atmosphere. If there was any saving grace at that table, it was that the children were at Hogwarts, and Teddy was studying whilst Victoire looked after Louis and Dom.

Bill's reaction was not subtle in any way, and it was only Molly's interference that saved him from being noticeable in his sudden jerk and clear desire to hold Hermione in his arms and _never_ let her go again, screw the consequences. Well, Molly's interference and Percy and Charlie's tight grip on his arms, keeping him in his seat. He still tried to clamber over the table, but his brothers combined were stronger, even given his wolfish abilities, and held him in place, so all he could do was try to catch her eye. But she was doggedly avoiding looking at him; did she honestly think that he would let another of their children be raised by her abusive husband?

He frowned even as Audrey began an awkward conversation regarding the unseasonal weather, and global warming. Ron was pouting in his seat at the lacklustre and late congratulations, and his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the group of three tense older brothers across the table. Hermione still refused to meet anyone's eyes. Other than these five, the group gently relaxed into safer topics and were soon chatting almost as lightly as usual, though the proverbial dark cloud that was Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron and 'Mione still hung low over them all, dampening the atmosphere perceptively. The dinner ended sooner than usual, and they split into various groups to wander through to the living room, other than the three eldest sons, two of which began quickly dragging the other to the orchard and out of sight.

When the majority of the group were sat down on the comfy sofas, they found Fred's portrait pacing in agitation. "Fred?" Arthur called curiously. "What's wrong?"  
"Something's happening." He muttered. "Something's... Where's George?"  
"He's at home with Ange," Molly said fondly, "she's due any day now!"  
Fred looked briefly happy, before scowling again. "But something's-"

"Speaking of," Ron interrupted, taking a large swig of his whiskey and evidently hoping for a better reaction than at dinner, "'Mione's pregnant again! Isn't that great?!" Fred halted and his inky face peered at Hermione seriously whilst Ron's grin slipped slightly in the silence. "Fred? Isn't it great?"  
The departed twin didn't stop his examination of the woman, and this didn't go unnoticed by the other occupants of the room. "Freddie, tell them it's brilliant!" Molly told him bossily.  
The painted man shook himself and gave a weak smile. "Sure, it's great. Congratulations." His dead-panned voice fooled no-one, but it did make Hermione finally look up and meet his gaze, and she was surprised to find the tender worry there. "You doing okay, 'Mione?" He asked gently.  
All eyes snapped to her and she gave the same timid nod that she gave every time she was asked the question, and though Arthur and Luna both scowled, everyone returned to looking at Fred. He continued to look at her long after everyone had begun conversing casually amongst one another, and though he didn't manage to catch her eye again for another half-hour, he didn't stop. In fact, he rather looked like a Muggle portrait, as he was so still, other than the occasional blink or small sigh.

Eventually though, she did lock gazes with him again and, unnoticed by the others in the room who were fully engaged in a conversation regarding Celestina Warbeck's new album, he raised an eyebrow inquisitively and mouthed, "Are you okay?" Glancing at Ron and relieved that he seemed to be ignoring her, she gave the smallest shake of her head and, lip wobbling, rested her hands over her belly, where her child was growing. It was the first time she had openly admitted to anyone that she wasn't anywhere near all right, and though it was only to a painting, she found herself feeling moderately better. She gave Fred a small shrug, eyes watering slightly, and raised a shaky finger to her lips to indicate saying 'shh'. Ron noticed the movement and she deftly changed it to brush a strand of hair from her face, before smiling wanly when he grabbed it and kissed the back of her knuckles. She and the portrait both lapsed into silence following this, but after multiple ridiculous expressions from Fred, including tongue-lolling, eye-rolling and devil-horn fingers, he finally managed to coax a small giggle from the young woman. Seemingly satisfied, he gave her a small smile whilst she sunk into her thoughts, trying to remember the last time she had genuinely laughed.

…

"Get the fuck off me!"  
"Well then calm the hell down."  
"I need to speak to her!"  
"You can't."  
"I-"  
"You bloody well know you can't!"  
"It'll do a hell of a lot more harm than good, Bill, you know that."  
Bill finally stopped struggling against his brothers when they were deep within the orchard, throwing them off his arms and storming to the nearest tree. He pulled back his arm, fist already formed, and growled loudly when they both latched onto his hand to stop his hitting the trunk. "Let go of me!" He snarled, spinning to face them with eyes glowing gold in the night and teeth bared as if he were a true werewolf.

Both Percy and Charlie held their hands up in the universal sign of surrender, taking a few steps back and regarding him warily. "Bill, calm down, please." Percy asked quietly, remembering all too late that the full moon was either very soon, very recently gone, or very _present_.  
Charlie, who had seen him like this before, was more prepared than his suddenly anxious younger brother. "It's tonight?" He asked quietly, and when Bill gave a jerking shake of his head and muttered that it was in two days, he sighed. "We shouldn't have come tonight."  
"What are you doing?" Percy hissed, just as the elders shoulders slumped.  
"I had to see her."  
"I'm distracting him, it's the only thing that will work." Charlie whispered to his younger brother, before turning back to his older. "Hermione?"  
"Of course Hermione!" Bill yelled to the night sky, or to the night sky encased within his brothers' silencing charm. "I had to bloody see her and it's a damn good thing I did, because she's fucking pregnant!" He suddenly froze on the spot.

"Bill? Everything okay?" Percy asked nervously, but he still didn't move.  
"Bill! Snap out of it!" Charlie demanded, but he still didn't move.  
Finally, he turned and faced them slowly, with tears streaming down his cheeks and a grin lighting up his face. "She's pregnant." He whispered. "She's pregnant! We're going to have another baby! And this one we can actually have together! We can-"  
"Bill!" Charlie snapped. "Don't be stupid."  
"Wha-"  
Percy, who had realised what Bill hadn't, spoke up in a miserable voice, gnawing his lip anxiously. "If Ron didn't think that the child was his, do you think she'd be here?"

He halted and his smile slipped. "What do you mean?" His voice was more a whisper than a growl, but the tone behind it made Percy flinch nonetheless.  
"Ron thinks the baby is his." Charlie sighed heavily. "He must have a reason to."  
Bill shook his head emphatically. "No. _No_. She wouldn't sleep with him again, _ever_. I _know_ she wouldn't. She must've lied, said they'd had sex when he was drunk and couldn't remember it."  
"And why would she tell him before you?" Charlie asked miserably. "Why wouldn't she just tell you and run?"  
He scowled. "We've all agreed that something happened that made her terrified of him, so-" Cutting himself off, he stumbled back and tripped over a branch until he was sat on the floor, horrified.  
"She wouldn't sleep with him again, ever." The dragon-tamer looked more despairing than he ever had before, even when he'd had to put down his first dragon, when Toni had said she was leaving, when Fred had died. "Willingly."

Percy swallowed thickly. "Are we actually saying that Ron ra- that Ron rap- that Ron-"  
"Don't say it." Charlie snapped.  
"Raped her." Bill finished, ignoring everyone and staring at the ground as if he either wanted to punch it into oblivion or for it to swallow him up.  
"No, not Ron!" Percy rubbed his glasses on his sweater despairingly. "He would never... He wouldn't... No."  
"We've all agreed he's not the Ron we know at the moment." Charlie replied sadly. "He's-"  
"He's dead." Bill stated bluntly, before jumping up and beginning to run back to the Burrow.  
" _Protego!"  
_ " _Incarcerous!"_

The brothers spells hit him at the same time, and he grunted as he was thrown back into the trunk of a tree and quickly fastened there. "Let me go." His voice was deadened and unnervingly calm, but his eyes weren't even amber any more, they were a blistering fire of gold, citrus and scarlet, like the most violent sunrise imaginable. His pupils, too, had dilated until they were unnervingly large, and seemed to shimmer menacingly in the moonlight.  
"Bill, you can't go after him." Percy stated, attempting to adapt Charlie's earlier calm but failing miserably.  
"Let me go."  
"He's right, you can't." Charlie added, though even the relaxing tone he had practised over the years was shaking violently. He'd never seen Bill quite like this, even close to the full moon, and he had seen him screaming, drinking to oblivion and punching whatever was in sight. But this kind of calm hatred terrified him more than anything; he genuinely thought that Ron would end up in St Mungo's if they released him.

Not that he could particularly blame Bill. Since Ron's announcement at dinner, his mind had been flicking through various possibilities of how Hermione could be pregnant and Ron could be okay with it, be _glad_ about it even. But no matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise, there was only one explanation that seemed to suitably fit. Still, though, his little brother, his littlest brother, a rapist? The whole concept was revolting. If it hadn't have been for Ron not being, well, _Ron_ , and Bill's obvious need for restraint, he was fairly sure he would have hit their youngest sibling too. He couldn't really blame Bill for wanting Ron to pay for what he'd done, but punching someone and hexing them until they were no more than dust, were two very different things. And judging how Bill was right now, he'd probably bury the dust and set fire to the land too.

"Let me go."  
Shaking and reminding himself that he had an important job to do, mainly calm down his brother and best friend, he grimaced. "What will going after Ron achieve?" He asked, attempting to be calm and smooth but his voice shaking.  
Bill glared at him, but perhaps some of the desperate misery in Charlie's eyes quenched some of his passionate fire, as he sagged against his magical bonds. "He needs to be-"  
"I know." Charlie interrupted. "But do you know what _needs_ to be done more? Thinking about Hermione."  
He grabbed at his hair in agitation. "You think that there is one _fucking second_ that I'm not thinking about her?!" The bobble holding his ponytail suddenly snapped and he attempted to stifle a growl.  
Attempted, and failed. "Calm down." Charlie sighed, though he still watched him nervously.  
"We both know you're thinking of Hermione and the baby too. But we're not going to be able to help by being impulsive or irrational; that's what Ron's been doing." Percy reasoned.

If he had thought that his logic would help, he was wrong, for Bill turned to glare at him with narrowed eyes. "None of us," He hissed, "would _ever_ do what Ron's been doing."  
Spluttering, he finally managed to force out, "Of course not, that- that's not what I'm saying! I just- I just want to help 'Mione, and I don't think that we can do that by being too, you know, spontaneous, you know?"  
"He's right, we need to think this through." Charlie said in a grim tone.  
The part-wolf growled and seemed ready to break free from the magical bonds and attack everyone within a five mile radius, but settled for glaring silently.

That was until Charlie promptly stormed over and slapped him hard across the cheek. "Bill, we all want to fucking confront Ron right now, but we bloody well can't!" Stunned by the slap, a tinge of blue appeared within the burning of his eyes, like the most intense part of a flame. "Don't get angry." Charlie warned. "I didn't want to slap you, but you're acting like someone you're not."  
"What?"  
He sighed. "Bill, I've seen you close to the full moon before, I've seen you _on_ the full moon before, and you've never been like this."  
"But Hermione-"  
"I get it, okay? You love her. But you can't kill your brother, and I," He glanced at Percy, " _we_ , can't let you do anything rash."

Bill, eyes now almost entirely sapphire, began crying bitterly, and sagged against the magical constraints. "I love her." He croaked. "I love her, I've loved her for years, and I loved her then. I sat back and watched her raise one of my children with _him_ , because I thought it was the right thing to do. But now?" He sighed and looked to the small beam of moonlight that shone through the trees. "I can't do it again. I can't let Ron raise another of my children."

His voice was less than a whisper, but they heard him anyway. There was a snap of a branch, and another of their brothers stepped out from the forest, expression somewhere between shocked and horrified. Three of Bill's brothers had heard him; Charlie, Percy, and-  
"What the actual fuck?"


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N** Merry belated Christmas/Happy Holidays/whatever you guys may have been up to! I really hope that you've all had a wonderful time! I know I said I'd be updating every day, and I failed in that (X-mas is just too busy!), I'm really sorry! We are back now though, and I do hope you guys had a great time during the Holidays. I think (THINK) that there's 6 more chapters to this, so the original New Years date should be met, though expect some shorter chapters with many more cliffhangers; you all know how I love them, hehe.

Quick shout out to Danislittlesecret; Hope you're not disappointed... Bookworm; Oh, she will get her comeuppance... You didn't think I'd leave her out of the story did you? Crossy; You are, as always, lovely. I hope my misdirection doesn't annoy you!

Anyways, I really do hope you all had a wonderful day yesterday, thank you and, as always, enjoy.

 **Chapter 20**

" _What the actual fuck?"_

Percy sighed, Charlie groaned, and Bill merely looked. "I guess you have questions?"  
"Yes. I bloody well do. But for now, I have to be at the hospital." George took a deep breath. "That's why I'm here; Angie's gone into labour, so I thought I'd let the family know. They said you were here."  
Percy and Charlie immediately began questioning Angelina's health, but George was still staring at Bill. "I hope she's-"

"I told Fred first. Or Fred's portrait, rather." He interrupted. "He told me... There's something wrong with Hermione, isn't there?"  
Charlie frowned. "We need to be back at the hospital-"  
"What's wrong with her?"  
Percy shook his head. "Angelina needs-"  
"Has Ron hit her again?" George hadn't taken his gaze from Bill's and hadn't flinched once, until now. "Is he abusing her?"  
Bill stayed still, the wolfish flecks of orange in his eyes dancing but not in a hostile way. "George," He said calmly, giving a small smile and walking forward, as the shock had made the other's charms fail, "we can talk about this later. We need to go to the hospital."  
George seemed to be in a state of shock and terror. "No! I have to know what's going on! Is he hitting her? Is she okay?!"

Bill strode forward and pulled him into a close embrace. "It's always scary." He whispered. "Always. Your first child, your second, your third, it's scary." He pulled back and smiled. "Hermione once told me she thought you'd be an amazing Dad, and I agreed with her."  
George cried silently. "What's happening? What's going on with our family?"  
Bill also had tears falling. "What's happening? Your wife is in hospital, and we need to be there."  
George didn't smile. "Our family?"  
"Our family has a way of creating trouble, but we always work it out. Together. There are secrets and betrayals and more lies than I can count, but if there is one thing that you will learn tonight; you will do anything, _anything_ , for those you love. Anything."  
"And Ron?" Bill tried to keep his deceptive eyes under control, and failed. "You love her, don't you?"  
"We should go to the hospital."  
"Yeah."

...

A few hours later found George crying once more, though this time holding a small boy in his arms. Angelina had immediately asked to see Hermione after the birth, and due to her ongoing support throughout their multiple miscarriages, had asked her to be godmother. She had, of course, accepted with many tears, and took little Fred in her arms lovingly. Barely ten minutes later, one of the godfathers entered, and Lee Jordan grinned at them all.

It was this scene that Bill walked into a few moments later; Lee was cracking jokes with George, Angelina was already asleep, and Hermione was cradling the baby against her chest. "Shut up! Fred's asleep!" She hissed at George and Lee and, looking ashamed, they both paled.  
"Is he still okay?" George whispered. "I mean, you've had kids before so does he, I don't know, seem all right?" She smiled and tried to pass Fred over, but George still looked scared. "Hey," She smiled, "you can do this. You'll be an amazing Dad, I always knew you would be."  
His eyes flicked to Bill and he smiled, taking Fred and holding him close. "Bill is the other godfather." He explained at Hermione's confused look. "We had a few options, but Bill said a few things to me last night that make sense now." He took young Fred from Bill's arms and smiled at him. "I would do anything for this child. _My_ child." His eyes flicked to Angelina. "I'd do anything for her, too." His grin suddenly slipped, and he grimaced. "Hey, Lee? D'ya mind giving us a minute?" Lee shrugged, kissed Fred's head and left, leaving Bill, Hermione, George and the still asleep Angelina together.

"So," George began, looking between his son's godparents, "something's happened."  
Bill fidgeted, but Hermione was already standing. "Congratulations, and thank you for making me a godmother, but Ron will want to see me, so I'd better go."  
"Wait." George called, frowning. "Just wait. I think I need some answers."  
Hermione gave a soft smile. "What you need is to be with Angie and Fred; they're the ones that matter now."  
"But everything else in the family seems to be going to hell." George glanced at Bill. "And there are some children who may not know who their parents are. So I do need answers."  
Hermione sighed. "I need to see Ron."  
"Will he hit you if you don't?"

The question took her by surprise, and she spluttered for a moment, before her fearful persona took over. "Of course not. Ron loves me, he'd never hurt me." She banished the fake tone from her voice with her next sentence, as she gave a genuine smile. "Fred is gorgeous; I'm really happy for you and Angie. Thank you again for making me a godmother, and I'll try my best to not let you or Fred down. I do have to go now though, sorry." She paused when her hand was on the doorknob, and turned to face Bill and George with a serious look. "Our children are what matter." Her eyes met Bill's and she unconsciously placed a hand over her stomach. After meeting his gaze however, her heart plummeted once more and she became even more terrified about who the father was. Bill thought it might be him from that night at her cottage, and Ron was sure it was him after he had raped her; who was the father?

…

Despite the joy of Angelina's successful birth, the following few weeks were fairly miserable for the others. Two weeks after little Fred's birth was the three month anniversary of the late Harry and Ginny's death, and all three Potter children, as well as Rose and Hugo, had been given the weekend off from school.  
They all stood around the graves of Harry and Ginny, crying bitterly, and though Hermione moved to comfort the children, Teddy and Victoire too, Ron held her back, scowling at everyone. Hating herself, she turned to her husband. "Ron, may I visit Harry and Ginny alone? Please?"  
Ron grinned and kissed her, his voice seeping with the indulgence one might save for a child. "Of course! Maybe our baby will have-"  
"Hermy-own-ninny?"

A high-pitched ringing filled her ears, her mouth became as dry as dirt, and the Earth seemed to shift on its axis when she registered the voice and looked at Ron. He was glaring, tight lipped and insanely furious, over her right shoulder and, almost as if he didn't notice it, his grip of her wrist tightened until she winced. "Krum." He stated coolly. "What are you doing here?"  
"I vas coming to see Harry, he vas a good man." Even though her husband's grip wouldn't let her turn around, she could hear the confusion and nervousness in her old friend's voice. "Ginny too, off course, she vas a good vuman."  
Ron's face seemed to become purple in his fury, though perhaps his ruddiness was from the copious amounts of alcohol he had already drunk. "You're not welcome here." He spat.  
Viktor spluttered for a few moments in clear befuddlement. "I am sorry," He began in his deeply accented voice, "I vanted to see them, I did not vant to make any problems."  
"Well, you being here is a problem." Ron snapped and, much as she had done when George had been terrified prior to Angie's birth, Hermione had had enough.  
Ripping her bruised wrist from Ron's grasp, she turned and gave Krum a weak grimace. "You're more than welcome to come here, Viktor; Harry always respected you."

The Bulgarian's eyes darted swiftly between the pair, before his usual scowl gave way to a clearly fake, and frankly unnerving, imitation of her false smile. "I am grateful." He said slowly, his eyes darting rapidly now and his frown growing. Turning slightly, she noticed Luna and Percy trying to distract Ron, with Rolf and Audrey quickly catching on and moving their bodies to effectively hide Krum's face from him. "Hermy-own-ninny?" Her attention was brought back with a snap, and she tilted her head inquisitively. "Are things good with you?"  
She gave the placid smile that now seemed to have become her natural reaction to that question. "Oh, you know." She replied, thinking about a word from of a book about psychology she'd once read; deflection.

But Viktor, whether it be his naturally stubborn nature or his, at times, poor grasp of English, was not deflected. "No, I do not know." She shrugged, unable to bring any reply to her mind that didn't involve her screaming or crying. "Hermy-oh-" Viktor halted, and frowned, "Herm-eye-oh-knee," He pronounced with slow deliberation, "vhat has happened to you?"  
She paled. What had happened to her indeed? She rested a hand over her still flat- although Ron seemed insistent that there was, and always had been, a rather large bump- stomach, pressing tightly as if, through her touch alone, she could learn the paternity of the child within. Viktor registered her movement and his thick eyebrows pulled together. "Ron?" He asked quietly. "Is he not being good vith you?"  
She shook her head emphatically, but one of those brows raised in a way that, to her, was like a second harsh slap. He was wearing the doubting expression that she always associated with Bill, and tears welled in her eyes. "Walk with me." She murmured quietly, before heading silently towards the graves.

"I-," She sighed, "you-," she groaned, "it's-," she practically hissed in frustration with herself.  
"Is he not good?" The man repeated as they regarded the stones in front of them.  
"It's complicated." Hermione managed to say eventually. Viktor frowned at her and she bit her lip. "No. He's not good."  
Viktor Krum, though quite a bit older than when she had met him and retired from his Quidditch career, still posed quite the intimidating figure when his eyes narrowed and the muscles hidden by his respectful suit tensed. She instinctively flinched as his fists bawled up and he stepped towards her. "Vhat has he done?" He demanded in a low voice, before seeming to jump as she cowered. "Hermy-own-ninny, vhat is wrong? I vould never-" Realisation seemed to hit him- the third harsh slap of the afternoon- and she desperately grabbed his arm as he growled and turned towards the group behind them.

"Viktor, please, don't!" She begged, and when he whipped round to face her, expression still fierce, she whimpered slightly and shrank into herself. This made him mutter a stream of foreign expletives before pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly, muttering soothing words in her ears.  
"I vould never- I cannot- It is-" He was now the one rendered speechless, as he spluttered helplessly, only to be suddenly pushed back.  
"It's nothing. Don't say a word." Hermione hissed.  
"How can I not?" He asked, bewildered.  
"Promise me! You have to promise!" She sounded so desperately scared, that he nodded mutely. "You have to say it!"  
"Okay, okay, I promise!" He exclaimed, looking at his old friend's white face and darting eyes, not to mention the angry marks on her wrists. A brief look of relief crossed her face before she smiled blandly once more.

"Everything okay over here?"  
"Of course darling." She said quietly, giving Viktor a 'look'.  
"Off course. Ve vere just talking off Harry. "  
Ron scowled. "You have no right to talk about Harry."  
He looked close to throwing a punch, and whether it was her natural maternal instinct, her fear for Viktor, or her absolute terror as she saw Ron's face; she promptly fainted.

...

When she awoke, it was to the terrifying words;

Here Lies Harry Potter

Beloved Father

Dearest Friend

Missed By All

Death Is But The Next Great Adventure

She choked back a sob, as she realised the implications of being here. Had it really been three months? Three whole months? Her logical mind whispered, _of course it has been, don't be stupid_ , but her emotions couldn't deal with it. And then Ron was yelling at Viktor, somewhere in the distance, and that grave was still staring at her, and she was so bloody fucking tired of it all. She wanted to sleep. Suddenly, she noticed that she wasn't on the floor, but on a rather bumpy surface, a very warm bumpy human surface. She didn't want to turn her head, because she knew who it was. Perhaps she'd always known. Screw it, she's known from the moment she'd come back into consciousness.  
Because there was no-one else she'd feel so safe with. "Don't hit him." She mumbled wearily, and the voice behind her gave an irritated growl.

"I would, if I didn't know you'd be mad at me for months."  
"I'm always mad at you Will."  
"Merlin, it's Bill. I hate being called William. Or Will." As he said this, he was still stroking her hair and she knew he was irritated, but it was a lovely distraction all the same.  
"D'ya know, there's a Muggle movie, it's pretty cool, which makes a big deal about Will, who is actually Bill's son, who is Orlando Bloom, and for some reason Kiera Knightly likes him, which I don't understand. Anyhow, it's... Well, it's pirates and ships and Johnny Depp."  
"You realise how insane you sound right now?"  
She hummed in agreement, before tensing and attempting to sit up, only to dizzily fall back. "Bill, you can't be here, if Ron sees you-"  
"Concealment charms." He said shortly.

She allowed her swimming head to fall back onto his chest, her eyes closing but her heart still pounding. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and shaky. "The children?"  
He felt him sigh heavily, as he began to stroke her hair again. "Charlie's getting them out, he's taking them for ice-cream."  
"They've not left yet?"  
"They will, soon. Charlie will look after them."  
She gave a small smile. "Remind me to thank him, next time I see him." The smile fell as quickly as it had arrived. "So, uh, what does Ron think he's seeing right now? When he looks over here?"  
"Just Harry and Ginny... Well, their..." Graves. She reopened her eyes and turned her head until she finally saw him. His scarred, prematurely lined face, the freckles adorning his nose, his sunrise-shaded hair. And those eyes, Merlin, his eyes. She could never get tired of seeing them, with their sapphire hue, which at present were speckled with bronze as his anger at Ron's overreaction had given way to concern about her.

"What're you looking at?" Bill asked, smirking slightly.  
She shrugged, still slightly dizzy after passing out. "You, obviously." He raised an eyebrow in amusement, but her mind was already waking up. "Where does Ron think I am?"  
His intensely blue eyes closed, as if he was in pain, and when he looked at her again his reassuring look seemed forced. "He... He hasn't asked about you. He's been too busy yelling at Krum."  
She groaned and attempted to roll over, but halted when an intense wave of nausea overcame her. Bill tutted and pulled her back, so that she was resting against his chest again, rubbing her shoulders as she dry-heaved. When the feeling of sickness had eventually passed, she grimaced. "Is Viktor okay?"

Both she and Bill looked over towards the rowing pair; he scowled at his brother's anger and clear inebriation- 'On the anniversary of our sisters death!'- whereas she was once more forced into a state of terror.  
Viktor's face was cemented in a look of forced calm but his eyes, she could see even from this distance, were dark and flickering with anger, whilst Ron wore no illusion of attempting to control his temper. Fists balled at his side as he looked up at the slightly taller and definitively more defined and muscular Krum, she wasn't sure whether she was more concerned that Viktor would put Ron into St Mungo's, or Ron would put someone else in St Mungo's. Someone else, in this instance, most likely being her.

She felt a warm hand rubbing her shoulder gently, and glanced up at Bill again. "I should-"  
"Don't say you should go and make sure he's okay." Bill warned, and she flushed guiltily. "It's not your responsibility," He began, through gritted teeth, "to look after him, or to make sure he's not being a bloody drunk fuc-"  
"Bill, don't." She interrupted quietly.  
"How can I not?! Imagine it was someone you loved being beaten to shi-"  
"Bill, don't." She insisted.  
"But-"  
"Bill, we are next to Harry and Ginny's graves right now. Ron has already ruined this day enough, but please don't insult them any more by talking about this... Situation, while we're here."

He tensed beneath her and she began to murmur a quiet apology, but he swiftly turned her head and kissed her softly. He pulled away after only a few short moments, but the seconds were enough to make her mouth pop open in surprise, her heart pound frantically in her chest, and her fear raise to new heights. When she glanced over to where the others had been gathered though, the group was still clustered around the now rowing Charlie and Ron. "You're right." He murmured, when her head was rested against his chest again, her breath considerably more ragged.  
"You shouldn't have done that." She whispered.  
"You're right." He repeated, sounding supremely content.  
"You don't regret it though, do you?" She tilted her head to gaze up at him once more, to find him with his eyes closed, a small smile gracing his lips. He looked, she thought, just as he did in the mornings, years ago, when she awoke beside him. She hadn't seen anything so beautiful in quite a while.  
"You're right." He said once more, one eyebrow rising in amusement, before the eye underneath followed and he peeked at her, not witnessing the event that would follow. "Hermione-"

As she lay herself down on his chest once more, she tilted her head towards the group of Weasleys and her heart filled with a dread she'd not dared to imagine before. As she watched Charlie, who already had Hugo clutched tightly to his chest, and Ron, who was swaying on the spot, arguing over something or another, she hissed. Ron had grabbed Rose's arm tightly, and even from the distance she could see her daughter wince. She, ignoring nausea, began to move to help Rose, but before she could tell her legs to work, Charlie had subtly charmed Ron's arms to numbness, and disapparated away with Hugo and his sister. Something then snapped within Hermione's mind, something dark and terrifying and deadly. _How dare he lay a hand on my little girl_.

"Do you fancy getting a coffee?"  
Her head felt as if it had been on a roller-coaster; grief, fear, then fainting, then safety, the fear again, then kissing, then _fury_ , and now coffee?! She sat up, without any nausea thankfully, and stared at Bill incredulously. "You've gone mad." She stated bluntly.  
He shrugged. "Perhaps. But I still want to get coffee with you."  
"Because the last time we went out in public went so well, what with my best friend Rita Skeeter."  
"Do you really care what Skeeter says?"  
Sighing heavily, she flicked her eyes away from his, unable to meet the deep blue any longer, and stared resolutely at the ground. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but furiously loving. "I have to get home. I have to look after Rose and Hugo. Even if," Here, she took a shuddering breath, "Ron is there, I can't leave them alone."

"Leave him."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N** Ah, you lovely people, you're going to hate me. I mean, really hate me. Shout out for a past bookworm video that was made for MLG (link on my profile) where I genuinely thought she was in my head. A part of that video makes a rather tragic return.

Crossy; With regards to Krum pummelling Ron, as entertaining as writing that boxing match would be, that's not how I do things, hehe! I hope you had a wonderful holiday!  
Bookworm; I'm very glad I managed to give you a nice wake up :) Thank you as always!  
EnzieQueen; Don't get me wrong, canon Ron wouldn't be like this, but hey, that's the beauty of fanfics! Thanks for your review, and I'm timing the ending for New Years Eve! And I refuse to give any spoilers, there's only a few days to go now!

 **Disclaimer;** All I want for Christmas is to be JK, to be JK, yes to be JK. Gee if I could simply only be JK, then I would I actually own anything recognisable in this. Buuuuut I don't. All hail Rowling!

 **Chapter 21**

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"  
Bill's fierce expression didn't fade. "Leave him."  
"B-but I-"  
"Leave him, 'Mione." Her mouth felt as if it had fallen open so much that her jaw must've broken by now, and half of her expected Bill to suddenly burst into laughter and say that it was all a joke. Because it had to be, right? Leaving Ron couldn't be as simple as just... Leaving him. Bill was not laughing, however, and looked deadly serious.  
"How can you- I can't just- it's not as simple as-" She spluttered awkwardly, but he silenced her with another swift kiss, making her already fried mind pound again, or was that the excitement in her heart?  
"Yes, you can." He stated firmly. "Even you must know that he's no good for you, and none of this is your fault or your responsibility. You should never be made to feel like it is, and you should never have to suffer every day, like you have been. Hermione, abuse is wrong, there's no two ways about it. You know that."

She'd partially tuned out when he had mentioned suffering. Her mind had flicked back to the wince on Rose's face when Ron had grabbed her, and she absolutely hated herself. Through trying to be strong, she had put her children in danger. And Merlin only knew what Bill would do if he knew what she'd seen; she couldn't tell him. She wondered for a moment why her vision was going blurry, and briefly entertained the thought that she had perhaps been concussed when she fainted, before moisture trickled down her cheek and she realised she was crying. "The children-" She choked.  
"Will understand." He interrupted, misinterpreting her words yet still wiping a tear from her face and smiling weakly at her. "Louis, Dom and Vicky did."

Momentarily distracted, her eyes widened as she breathed, "You've divorced Fleur?"  
He nodded. "I sent off the papers a while ago, and said I wouldn't take no for an answer." He gave a wonderfully wonky smile and her heart seemed to skip a beat. "It's much easier than we ever thought. And the kids... Well, they almost seemed to expect it. They're okay though, I think. They seem to be, and to be honest, I'll probably see them more if I go for joint custody."  
She smiled widely. "I'm really happy for you, Bill."  
He swiped a lock of hair from her face and cupped her cheek; apparently all inhibitions were gone today. "You deserve to be happy too."

She frowned and unconsciously rested a hand on her stomach. "I can't just leave him. This is about more than what only I want."  
He followed the motion of her arm as she touched the area where her child was growing, and smiled slightly, before leaning towards her and resting his head on the area, hugging her midriff as he did. She instinctively began running her fingers through his hair, and he settled softly against her. "I have an idea," He finally began in a quiet voice, "of what Ron must have done to you. I would like nothing more than to be wrong but... Well, I don't think I am. That's beside the point, though."  
Though she had tensed at her husband's name, there was something incredibly soothing about running her sore and tired fingers through Bill's hair, and she was feeling pleasantly calm for the first time in... She couldn't even remember. Probably, she reasoned, fifteen years. "What is the point then?" She murmured.

He turned his head to look up at her and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "The point is," He began, in a shaky voice, "that I will love this child, whether it's mine or not." She opened her mouth, whether to protest or cry, even she wasn't sure, but he cut across her. "I mean it. I'll love him or her like I love Vicky, Dom, Louis, Rosie and Hugo. And I know that biologically only one of them is mine, but I don't care about that. Being a father is... Well, it's easy, all you have to do is have sex. But being a dad, that's completely different. And whether I'm this baby's father or not," He kissed her stomach, before looking at her, sincerity lacing every tear that fell from his eyes, "I would really like the chance to be their dad."

She found herself unable to speak for a moment, and when she did say something, even she was surprised by what she said. "You included Hugo."  
His eyebrows pulled together. "Huh?"  
She shook her head and sat up, forcing him to as well, so they were sat opposite one another. "You included Hugo in your list of kids that you love. Even though he's Ron's."  
Bill gave a wry smile. "He should've been mine. But yeah, I love him." He tilted his head and smiled fully at her. "He's like you, and he's a part of you. You already know that I love everything about you." He scowled and added an addendum. "Apart from the bruises."

She gave a humourless chuckle. "Is it really so easy?" She asked, her voice shaking.  
"Is what?"  
"Divorce." She barely breathed the word, and immediately felt guilty for even saying it, and fearful that somehow Ron might have heard her, but Bill gave an understanding smile.  
"It is, it really is. And you already know that Rosie and Hugo will understand so that's half the battle done already."  
"But he won't be... He'll not be mature about it. The last time I brought it up he... He... He-"  
"You don't need to say it." Bill interrupted, as much for her as for himself, as he pulled her into a tight embrace.  
"I'm scared, Bill." Sobbing uncontrollably onto his shoulder and not even caring, she buried herself deeper into his shirt. "I'm s-so s-scared-d. A-a-an-and I'm s-s-so b-bloody-y tired of b-b-being s-scared."

He rocked her back and forth, rubbing her back and whispering soothing words in her ear until she had calmed somewhat, and they ended up sitting, cross-legged, facing one another. Hermione, however, was not looking at him, but staring at Ginny and Harry's tombstones. He nudged her knee lightly and, in a concerned voice, asked, "What're you thinking?"  
She shook her head, as if coming out of a trance, and gave a sad smile. "I was just thinking of what Ginny and Harry would say about all of this."  
Bill matched her expression, down to the grim smile and tear-filled eyes, but he pulled her closer anyway and, with her sat between his legs, rested his head on her shoulder and joined her in staring at the two graves. "What do you think they would say?" He asked quietly.  
She smiled weakly. "Ginny would yell and scream at me to bloody grow a pair, whilst casting a billion bat-bogey hexes on Ron's genitals."

They both shared a weak chuckle. "And Harry?"  
She sighed heavily. "Harry would be mad. Really, really mad."  
"Hmm. I'm not sure I've ever really seen Harry mad." Bill said thoughtfully.  
She shrugged miserably. "After our fifth year and then the horcruxes, he was always careful with his anger. But... Well, he was human, of course he got angry. Sometimes he'd rant to Ginny, but a lot of the time he'd rant to me. I guess we were like the siblings we never had."  
She felt his nod against her shoulder, before he prompted, "So he'd be mad, but what would he say?"  
Hermione chuckled. "Well, whenever we were together, he'd get that tight-lipped narrow-eyed look, a bit like Pro- Minerva- but I guess when we were alone he'd say..." She gave a heady sigh and stood up, walking until she was directly in front of his grave.

 _"''Mione, what the actual hell?! You're actually putting up with this?! Jesus, Merlin and whoever the hell else, stop being like this! You want to help him, sure, and so do I, but you're never going to help him like this. You're one of the strongest women I've ever met, probably the strongest in fact (sorry Gin), and I get how you feel you have to be strong for everyone else, but the best way you can do that is just by being you! You're strong 'Mione, never forget it. And you really deserve better than this. As for Bill? Well...'"_

"Coffee sounds good."  
Bill gave a noise of surprise from behind her, before clearing his throat and asking, "Really?"  
She turned and gave a small smile. "Charlie's looking after the kids, right?" He nodded numbly, a grin forming on his face. "Well, I seem to remember seeing a café near the supermarket in the Welsh town we went to." She held her hand out. "Are you in?"  
Bill met her eyes seriously. "Are you?"  
She sent a fond look behind her. "I haven't been myself for a long time now, but I think I'm getting there. I'm leaving him, for certain this time." And he  
might have doubted her, if not for the steely look in her eyes that he hadn't seen for over a decade; Hermione Granger was back.

…

Ron arrived back home to find Charlie playing with Rose and Hugo, and immediately demanded to know where his wife was. His brother scowled and ignored his question, and Rose, as observant as ever and rubbing her arm, asked her Uncle Char if he wanted to see Wolfie and Wolfer. Charlie immediately agreed, following her upstairs and beckoning for Hugo to follow them. However, before the young boy could even take a step, Ron had stepped in front of him, calling a cheerful reassurance to his brother that he'd be upstairs soon.

"Hey, Hugo," Ron began, grinning at his son, "d'ya remember when your Uncle Bill and I had that little... Disagreement, and your mum took you somewhere?"  
Hugo, though he wrinkled his nose at the smell emanating from his father's mouth, didn't understand that it was alcohol on his breath. And as much as Hermione had tried to protect him and Rose, he knew there was something wrong with his dad. So it was with a cautious voice that he asked, "Yes... Why?"  
Rage flickered across his features, too quick for Hugo's young mind to register, before he gave an indulgent smile. "Can you remember where she took you? Remember what she said into the floo?" Hugo nodded mutely, still confused, and Ron's smile grew wider. "What did she say?"  
Hugo shied away a bit, and listened intently; he was fairly sure Uncle Charlie was moving towards the stairs, as the floorboards were creaking slightly. "Why do you want to know?" He asked boldly, before quickly adding, "Dad."

Ron smiled, an almost kind smile. "Well, I'm planning a surprise for your mum, that's why. I know that things have been tough around here, and I wanted to give your mum a real surprise, and I think there's the best place to do it!"  
Hugo gnawed at his lip. "Does that mean you and mum are going to be okay?"  
"Of course we are. Just tell me the name of the place she took you, and I'll have this amazing meal ready for her tomorrow." Hugo was still frowning slightly, and Ron pouted. "Don't you trust your dad?"

Too young to understand even the concept of manipulation, Hugo hugged his father and immediately told him the address that his mum had called out all those weeks ago. Charlie came down to the scene of them hugging and, unnerved, told Rose she could go and spend the afternoon with the Potters, and took Hugo back to the Burrow with him, the sight of Ron's half-smile imprinted on his mind.

…

It was only moments after Hugo and Charlie had left through the floo that he followed, the sight of a small-ish lounge area greeting him. He scowled at the evidences that people had been here recently, before running upstairs to the bedroom. Granted, the bed was made, but he could've sworn that there were two imprints on the bedding. An ugly snarl forming on his face, he moved to the en suite bathroom, eyes blazing when he found a tub of male shaving cream on the shelf, and not noticing that it was from over fifteen years ago.

He stomped down the stairs, feeling a sick satisfaction as he punched the wall on his way down, before moving to the kitchen. There seemed to be little amiss here, except for a half-empty bottle of firewhiskey on the counter, maybe she'd been hiding some more... He downed the bottle in less than two minutes and proceeded to go on a drunken rampage, ripping out kitchen drawers and tripping over chairs so many times that he ended up shattering them all on walls as he threw them. He finally, stumbling, made his way back into the lounge area, when a strange, silvery light caught his eye. He briefly remembered someone telling him something about what this thing was supposed to do, but he simply couldn't remember, so he snorted and went back in search of his alcohol. However, as he turned to walk away, Bill's face caught the corner of his eye and he lunged. Angry, violent and drunk, he dived head first into Hermione's pensieve.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N** Sooo the holiday cheer is DEFINITELY gone now... **Big** big warning for violence; please try to remember that this is a serious M! And, of course, as we come closer to the ending, I can't be cheerful! I know a lot of you are going to be pissed off at what I've written, but if you're going to review negatively, try and make it constructive please! Thanks as always to Bookworm and Crossy, love you guys! And thank you to all of those who have favourited/followed this story; we're getting close now!

 **Disclaimer** ; Everything recognisable is JKs.

As always, enjoy!

 **Chapter 22**

They apparated back to the house holding hands, and for a long few moments they held onto one another, Hermione smiling faintly but Bill gnawing his lower lip in concern. "You're just going to pop in for some clothes?" He asked, nerves lacing his tone.

She nodded reassuringly; Charlie had sent a message earlier that Rose was at the Potters and he'd taken Hugo back to the Burrow with him, so she didn't have to worry about collecting them. He had also, of course, mentioned that Ron had returned to their house, as drunk as he'd ever been, and that under no circumstances should she go home. But here she was, because for the first time in what felt like years, she felt like Hermione Granger, and she'd be _damned_ if Hermione Granger was going to be afraid of going into her own house. Still though, she wasn't stupid. "I'll be in and out in less than five minutes." She assured Bill.

He sighed. "You're sure I shouldn't come with you?"  
Shaking her head emphatically, she frowned. "No way. I'm hoping he'll have passed out by now, but on the off-chance he's awake, seeing you will just set his temper off tenfold. If it's just me I'll be able to get past him and out of the house much easier."  
His shoulders sagged; they'd been arguing about this ever since she'd mentioned that she planned to stop by before joining him at the Burrow. Though he disliked her decision, however, he couldn't help but keep the smile from his face. "You're really back." He murmured quietly, grinning openly when she gave him a radiant smile and kissed his cheek.  
"And soon, I'll be all yours again." She slipped her hand from his and gave him a playful shove. "Now shoo, I'll see you in a few minutes."  
"Keep your wand close." She nodded and, stepping away, he turned on the spot and vanished, leaving her alone on the doorstep.

Shaking off the remnants of the fear that had dominated her life for so long, she straightened her resolve and her back, her knuckles whitening with the tight grip she had on her wand, and pushed the door open. She cast a quick homonum revelio, which confirmed that yes, Ron was still in the house, but as the effort alone caused her already pregnancy-weakened magic to flicker, she didn't dare to use her limited resources to try and locate where he was. _So, Granger_ , she told herself firmly, _guess we're doing this the Muggle way_.

She pressed her back flush against the wall and began edging her way along, ears pricked and tensed for the sound of footfalls or breathing, and poised to attack, either with her wand or the balled fist at her side. She quickly swung into the kitchen, a stupefy on the tip of her tongue, only to find it empty, so she repeated the process with the rest of the lower floor. No sign of him. She tip-toed her way up the stairs, grateful that the years of having babies that were prone to wake at the sound of a pin-drop had taught her to avoid any creaky steps.

The inspection of the upstairs went similarly to the down, though this time there were more ominously closed doors. The children's and her own bedrooms proved to be empty, however, as did the bathroom and her study. Which only left Ron's area, his 'guy room', as he'd dubbed it. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed on it gently, wincing as it gave a squeak. Yes, there he was, standing in front of his desk, palms flat on it and head bowed, chair overturned on the other side of the room. His bright red hair, so unlike Bill's, was matted and unkempt, clearly unclean, and the whole room stank of whiskey. Or was it just that the smell from him was so bad that it seemed to permeate everything around him? She couldn't tell, but for a moment marvelled at the fact that she hadn't seemed to notice any of this recently.

She raised her wand to stun or freeze him, but some inner conscience within halted her; not only was his back turned, but he had also, at some point, been her friend, and her husband at that. Something deep within her refused to allow her magic to form, and she pouted, blaming it fully on pregnancy hormones. So for a moment she merely looked at him, disgust and pity forming a deep lump in her stomach. However, her resolve to leave him didn't falter, and she had just decided to quietly back out and lock the door from behind her, when she jumped, seemingly a mile, into the air. "Not going to do it then, dear?" 

... 

"So, why d'ya think Uncle Charlie wanted you to leave so badly?" Albus asked curiously, wrapping his red-and-gold Gryffindor scarf unconsciously around Rose's neck.  
She almost instantly stopped shivering; when they had left the house she hadn't counted on taking a walk around Godric's Hollow with her best friend, and she hadn't thought to even bring a coat to counter the traditionally freezing British 'summer'. "Thanks." She smiled.  
He gave a cheeky wink. "You look like a proper traitor now, Rosie."  
She shoved him playfully; though she had been sorted into Slytherin, it hadn't affected their friendship in the slightest. "I'll have you know that red and gold would clash _awfully_ with my hair."  
Albus wrinkled his nose. "Ew. That's such a... _Girl_ thing to say."  
"Well, you know, in case you hadn't noticed..." She indicated to herself with a raised eyebrow.  
He rolled his eyes. "I know you're a _girl_ , but you're not a _girl_ girl. You're like Lily; a girl, but not a _girl_."  
"You're making no sense."  
"Do I ever?" They both laughed carelessly as she tucked her arm into his and they meandered slowly around the small park. "So, Charlie?" He prompted after a while.

A frown that was deep enough to sit unhappily on her young face settled on her features. "I think it's my dad." She confessed quietly. She hadn't told anyone about her concerns about her parents, least of all her best friend who had been through so much recently already. But the conversation about divorce with her mum all those weeks ago, coupled with her complete change in character and dad's absence, had pointed to serious issues. "I think he was drunk when he came back." Albus looked at her with a mixture of shock and sympathy. "I think he's been drinking a _lot_ , and I don't think he's been particularly good to my mum."  
The young man next to her idly took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm sure things will work out. Have you spoken to your mum about this?"  
Rose shook her head sharply. "Of course not. She's got more than enough on her plate right now, without having to worry about me."  
"She'd want to know though, if you were upset."  
"I know, but..." She sighed, her whole body shifting with the movement, just like Hermione's did, and rested her head on Albus's shoulder as they continued their casual stroll. "D'ya mind if we head back?" She asked after a while. "I think I'm going to pop back home, make sure everything's okay, you know?"  
"Sure. Want me to come with you?"  
"No, thanks. I'm sure everything will be fine, but if anything is wrong, it'll be better if it's just me. I can slip out easier by myself."  
"Well hurry back; five minutes and I'm coming after you. And screw the law, keep your wand close."  
"I will." 

... 

_Not going to do it then, dear?_

"Not going to do what?" Hermione asked coolly as Ron turned to face her, his expression disturbingly calm.  
"Hex me, curse me, kill me. Whatever was going through your head just now." He swayed a little in his drunken stupor, but stayed determinedly in front of the desk, body hiding whatever he'd been looking at.  
"I wouldn't _kill_ you Ron." She huffed in irritation, her curiosity betraying her as she tried to peek behind him.  
"Not going to deny the others, then?" He asked casually, as if they were merely discussing the weather. "Not going to deny that you'd attack me whilst my back's turned?"  
She scowled, her attention snapping sharply back to his as she hissed, "It'd be no less than you deserve."  
He gave a low chuckle and smiled serenely. "What I deserve..." Hermione was unnerved as his alarmingly coherent gaze bore into her. "What I deserve?" He took a few steps forward and she raised her wand threateningly, though he didn't seem to care. "I went to your old house today." He began conversationally. "It's a rather pleasant place." He was moving ever closer, and she began to gather her magic within her, ready to send him hurtling into the wall the second he came near enough to ensure he'd be knocked out, not just stunned. "I took a small momento, though. I hope you don't mind."  
"Don't come any closer."  
"Want to see?"  
"I mean it, I-"

She cut herself off mid-sentence as he moved to the side and she saw what he had been leaning over; there, sat proudly in the centre of his desk, memories from fifteen years ago shimmering like glitter inside it, was- "My pensieve." She breathed fearfully, before shaking herself and trying to remind herself that she was Hermione Granger, and Hermione Granger was _not_ afraid. Though between the thumping of her heart in her ears and her now-trembling body, she found it difficult to convince herself of that. Clearing her throat, she attempted a wobbly smile. "Huh, I haven't used that in ages. Harry gave it to me for my birthday years ago, I guess I forgot about it. Ironic, right?"  
Ron was still staring placidly at her. "I didn't realise what it was at first," He said softly, "but I saw a face I recognised out of the corner of my eye and had to take a closer look. Can you guess whose face I saw?"  
She swallowed thickly. She knew what memories that pensieve was full of. "Harry?" She suggested tentatively.  
He laughed as though she'd told the best, 'a house elf, a centaur and a squib walk into a bar...', joke he'd ever heard, and any semblance of bravery she had vanished, replaced solely with her fight-or-flight instinct. "No-oo-oo..." He replied in a sing-song voice. "Try again."  
 _I am Hermione Granger. I will find a way out of this_. "Ginny?"  
"Wrong again! You're getting warmer though."  
"George?" She was slowly backing up, out onto the hall and towards the stairs, him following her careful steps like a predator hunting its prey.  
"Nu-huh. You've got one more guess."  
She didn't want to know what would happen if her guesses ran out, but if she could just go a few steps further, she could reach the stairs, cast a quick freezing spell, slide her way down then sprint for the door. "Um... You?"

His faux-calm expression dropped and rage filled his features; this was the Ron she knew. The Ron that had haunted her nightmares for months. She stopped moving, preparing to stun him and run, but as quickly as she'd cast the stupefy, he'd deflected it; her magic was too damn weak and, drunk or not, his reflexes were too damn good. "Were you ever going to tell me?" He seethed through gritted teeth.  
 _Okay, back to plan A. Just keep him talking and get to the stairs_. "Tell you what?"  
"Oh, I don't know, the fact that you were _fucking my brother_?!" His voice was raising in volume, but she was nearly close enough to cast the glacius charm. "The fact that you were in _love_ with him?!" Every muscle within her tensed; Ron was now yelling but she was so close, she could almost taste freedom. "Or how about the fact that you- you- _NEVER FUCKING TOLD ME THAT ROSE WAS BILL'S FUCKING DAUGHTER_?!" She raised her wand, it was now or never!

"Is that true?" 

... 

Hugo was concerned. There was no other way to define his sweating palms and permanent frown. His Uncle Bill had assured him that his mum would be round soon, but how soon was soon? And there was _definitely_ something wrong with his dad at the moment; what if they had another row? He'd tried speaking to the other adults, but his Uncles seemed to be having a super-secret talk together, and his Grandma only seemed interested in offering him apple pie and ice-cream. Which was another sign that Hugo was concerned; he didn't even have an appetite for Molly Weasley's legendary cooking.

He wandered idly around the Burrow, not even able to talk to Uncle Fred, who could usually make him laugh whatever the situation, because apparently he was in on the super-secret talk and every time he tried going in that room he was kindly led away by his Grandma or Granddad. Even as Arthur tried to distract the boy by asking him question after question about Muggle tebelisions, his mind was elsewhere; he was sure that he'd heard his Uncles mention his dad's name. What was happening?

He sighed and excused himself, claiming he needed the toilet, but in actuality tiring of his grandparent's attempts at calming his unquiet spirit. As he glanced into the living room, he saw Charlie grinning and slapping Bill's back, as if in congratulations, before a comment from Percy turned their expressions serious once more. Knowing that attempts at eavesdropping would be less than pointless, as he'd be caught out within seconds, he carried on his way towards the bathroom, when an uneven light caught his eye from the lounge. Looking around to make sure he was alone, he ducked inside and stared at the fire contemplatively. Almost without being aware of it, and with the worry of what was happening at home in the forefront of his mind, he reached out to the pot of floo powder and grabbed a handful, gnawing at his lip as he was _definitely_ not allowed to do this alone, and without permission. He threw the powder into the fire, quietly murmured his house's address, and stepped into the green.

...

 _Is that true?_

Any thoughts of fight, flight or even panic left Hermione, along with the breath in her lungs and the warmth in her blood. "Rosie," She breathed, "I can-"  
Rose, who had arrived only a minute ago and had been heading towards the sound of her father's raised voice, had ended up at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her parents, just as Ron had yelled that she was, in fact, Bill's child. She didn't stay for long, however, and quickly turned to run back to the floo, back to the Potters, and back to the world of the waking, because surely this must be some awful nightmare.  
"Rose!" Hermione yelled after her retreating form, moving to follow her but freezing as her hand tightened around thin air. In her shock and horror, Ron must have...

He waited until she had fully turned to face him before snapping her stolen wand neatly in two. Hermione flinched; losing a wand was like losing a limb; that small stick of wood that she'd bought when she was just eleven had saved her life more times than she could count. Her husband's eyes were still blazing. "You didn't answer my question." He informed her quietly, _menacingly_ , as he threw the shards of her wand at her feet and tapped his own against his palm, taunting her. "Were you ever going to tell me?"  
"I can explain." She whispered, her voice no more than a breath.  
"Were. You. Ever. Going. To. Tell. Me?" He repeated punctuating each word with a heavy step in her direction.  
"It was before we even dated. I didn't think it was worth hurting you, and you're still her _dad_ , she still loves you."  
"Is Hugo mine?"  
"Yes! Of course!"  
"I don't believe you."  
"I- I- Ron, I-" She began stuttering as he moved his wand from beating against his palm to point it at her, moving from her stomach, to her head, to her  
heart in a terrifying cycle.  
"Were. You. Ever. Going. To. Tell. Me?" He whispered it this time, and she almost wished he would scream and shout; this was much worse.  
"Ron... I-" She began, but just then her instinctive side burst back to life and firmly told her; _Screw this. Run_.

So she did, spinning as quickly as she could without losing her balance and beginning to head for the stairs. But no sooner had she moved, Ron had her by the back of her hair and she was following the shattered fragments of her wand downstairs, smashing through the banister and hurtling down to the floor below in the space of a few seconds. Time seemed to slow somewhat as she watched the wooden panes grow closer and closer, but she was unable to do anything but wish for a miracle, before the side of her head crashed down with a sickening thud, splintering wood and sending her her spinning, followed closely by the rest of her body, reverberations jolting through her with unimaginable pain.

Yet somehow, she was alive. She felt around feebly for the magic that had surrounded her for her whole life but found nothing; clearly she had used the remainder of her energy saving herself. She could only hope that it would last long enough. She attempted to weakly push herself up, but electric hot bursts of agony were coursing through her arms, her legs, her chest, her... She moaned feebly as she tried to hold her stomach, making a futile attempt to to protect the growing baby inside, but all too soon her husband was there again, his booted foot coming down hard on her hand and then her face. Her already broken nose seemed to crumble into nothing and as he stamped repeatedly on her chest, she began hacking up blood, choking and unable to scream, or make any noise other than a gargled whimpering. He kicked her over now, and began pummelling her with fists fuelled by years of Quidditch and Auror training, and soon she couldn't even see for the bruises and blood covering her eyes. She thought he might be yelling something, but either the blows to her head had damaged her hearing, or her ears were full of blood from one attack or the other. Teeth flew out from the gums, yet she had enough left to bite the tip of her own tongue off when he snapped her neck back violently, and blood pooled in and out of her mouth; at any other time the coppery taste may have made her gag, but right now, with her senses slowly shutting down one by one, and her mind too foggy to even recognise what was happening, she felt a certain... Numbness.

Some small part of her was aware that she was being beaten, probably to death, but that part was growing further and further away, and she was more than happy to let it go. The rusty darkness of blood covered eyelids was comforting after a while; if she tried to leave everything hurt, so she found a strange relaxation in the satanic colouring. She couldn't see, hear or taste anything, because everything seemed clogged- why was that again?- but that felt a little like being underwater, in the warmest, most restful bath imaginable, and what could be better than that? And as for touch, well, her body felt pleasantly weightless, as if she really _was_ in a deep bath... Maybe she'd made it too hot, and that's why she occasionally felt like she was on fire... _There was something happening to me_... No matter, it would cool after a while... _No wait_... Afterwards she'd curl up with Bill in their bed together, mmm, that would be nice... _Bill! No- I have to remember, it was- it was_... Yes, this whole dying lark wasn't really too bad, when she thought about it...

 _Dying_! Her eyes forced their way open as the last remnants of survival instinct kicked in, and though she could only see through one small slit on one side, she immediately noticed that Ron was no longer attacking her. Then again, she'd probably die anyway, and have that bath... _Concentrate_! She attempted to do an inventory of what was injured, but found immediately that it was easier to do one of things that weren't. Namely, nothing. Unable to move, barely able to breathe, and not knowing where on Earth anyone was, she had just decided to lay here and die, when a rough hand grabbed the back of her hair again, and dragged her limp, lifeless body, like an oversized doll, to the glass table that was in the middle of the room. _I hope he doesn't get blood on that, it's a bugger to clean_...

Next thing she knew, her head was being raised, and there was a buzzing in her ear that sounded familiar. She knew that voice. Ron's face, furious and twisted appeared in her limited vision, and she realized that it must have been his voice. Wait, what was his voice? Her mind was slipping further and further away, and even as he lined her head up with the corner of the table and dragged her back, her thoughts came sluggishly. _He's going to kill me... I'm going to die... I'm Hermione Granger... And Hermione Granger is going to die... I didn't tell Bill I loved him... I didn't tell the kids I loved them... I'm Hermione Granger..._ Her vision went black as she slumped to the ground, still aching and confused. She could've sworn she'd heard a voice, a voice she recognised from somewhere... But it couldn't be him... No, she was definitely dead... Or dying... _I'm Hermione Granger_...

"NOOO!"


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N** Agh, only a few chapters to go! We're gonna be done soon! Makes me sad!

Reviewers; roon0; She's been in a horrid place, but I guess every written character is viewed in the light of their reader. Still, if you continue to read, hope you like the ending!  
Bookworm; Oh, would I ever be as nice as that! Nooo, this is much more miserable... I hope you still love me though!  
Crossy; I had a similar thing after writing it; kind of a tragic relief. However, if you're expecting help for Ron, I may have surprised you here!  
Guest; Well thank you very much! I have updated 58 minutes after your review, I hope that's quick enough, haha!

 **Disclaimer** ; Everything recognisable is still Rowlings, and if I meet her I will apologise for abusing her characters so much...

 **Chapter 23**

 _NOOO!_

He wasn't sure that he was the one who had screamed until he realised that his throat was aching and he was still yelling for all he was worth. He abruptly shut his mouth, and the noise shut off, much to his eardrums relief. Daring to force his eyes open (when had he shut them?), he took in the general carnage of the room around him. The floor below the banister seemed to have been smashed in with a heavy object of some kind, the wooden banister itself was in bits, had somebody set off an explosion here? Blood was splattered everywhere like someone had taken a hose dyed with red water to the room, except water would never look so shiny, or be so thick, or smell so... _Wrong_.

He let his eyes drift to the centre of the room, where his heart fell. There she lay, the one who had ripped the scream from him, though if you didn't know her as well as he did, you would never have guessed it was one Hermione Weasley-Granger. Her body was so broken and bloody, it barely represented humanoid, and as for her face... Well, it was beaten to the point that there was no face. And the man, her husband, had been about to slam her head against the edge of the table, undoubtedly crushing what little skull was still intact. And there he was, thrown right through the room into the hall outside, slumped against a wall, neck at a completely and undeniably unnatural angle, unmoving.

He had arrived at the Weasley-Granger home just in time to hear Ron yell, "You'll never betray me again, you fucking whore!" When he saw the inevitable death waiting to happen; it had been then that he had started to scream, and then that his magic, as untrained and volatile as it was, had exploded out of him and thrown his abusive, murderous, violent father across the room. Most likely killing him.

Hugo, like most people in his situation- the lounge he had grown up in an absolute wreck, his mother dying two feet from him and his father undoubtedly dead down the hallway- had no clue whatsoever of what he should do. And, like most people his age, when he was faced with a situation that terrified, devastated and was all-round unbelievable, he resorted to the most basic human capabilities. So, bursting into a mixture of screams and tears, he flooed back to the Burrow and threw himself into the arms of the first of many people that came to him, alerted by the dramatic sound.

"I- I- I d-didn't m-m-m-mean tooooo!" He wailed into the body chest of the that held him. He could hear the others talking above him, asking him questions, and knew that he had to tell them that his mum needed help, _right now,_ but couldn't seem to form the words in his mouth.  
"Hugo," A kind voice said as it turned him gently away from the safe haven he was nestled in, "what's happened?" It turned out that it was his Uncle Bill who was speaking so softly to him, as he knelt down to his level and met his gaze with concerned eyes.

Though there was nothing accusatory or suspicious in the elder man's expression, Hugo was suddenly terrified; would he be arrested? Surely he would, he'd killed his own dad! Sweet Merlin, he'd be in so much trouble! He'd be expelled without a doubt, arrested too, probably, and his family would never speak to him again. Rose would hate him with a passion, and his mum would-

It was thinking of his mum that brought him out of his terrified thoughts; here he was wallowing in self-pity when she was lying alone in the shattered remnants of their home, _dying_. "I-it's m-my m-mu-um and d-d-dad. The-they're a-a-a-t ho-o-ome." He choked out eventually, watching with unbridled shock as his Uncle's eyes changed from their tenderly worried usual blue to a fierce, burning amber. "I-I didn't m-mean to." He repeated, somewhat calmer now, though his heart was still pounding with adrenaline.

"Are they okay?" His Grandma asked as Bill leapt to his feet and headed towards the fireplace, drawing his wand as he went. The others had also jumped to attention and within moments the tallest Weasley was flanked by Charlie and Percy, all with grim, panicked expressions on their faces.  
Hugo shook his head. "I... I think I-I-I... I think I killed him." He whispered eventually, though apparently it was loud enough for all to hear as even Bill halted with his hand in the pot of floo powder, mouth agape with shock.  
Molly opened and closed her mouth silently, playing the perfect part of a fish out of water. As the men looked between one another, uncertain of what to say or do, she swallowed thickly and pulled Hugo tightly to her, stroking his hair comfortingly and looking at Arthur sharply, though with swiftly moistening eyes. "Go with them, but be careful." She instructed swiftly. "All of you find out what's happening, then Bill and Percy stay with Ron and Hermione, Charlie you go to the Potters and fetch Rose, and Arthur, come back here and let us know what's going on."  
They followed her instructions mutely and trooped into the fire, a line of red-headed men with identical steel in their eyes.

Just a few minutes later, Arthur returned, his face closed down as if he'd been through the war again, as if he'd seen Fred and Ginny's dead bodies again. Molly knew without having to ask that Ron was gone. "Both of them?" She murmured, still stroking Hugo's hair.  
Arthur's head jerked to the side. "She's alive. But only barely. We need to go to St. Mungo's. Now. Percy's gone to tell George and Angie, and Charlie's meeting us there with Rose and the Potters."  
Molly nodded and pulled the red-eyed boy with her. "C'mon Hugo, let's go see your mum."

...

They arrived in the sterile waiting room and followed the signs to the intensive care unit in ominous silence, Hugo still sniffling miserably as he clasped on to Molly's hand for dear life. They noticed, unnervingly, the blood dripping from his clothing before they noticed him, but when their eyes travelled up to Bill's face, Molly and Arthur rather thought that they'd rather look at the blood. He didn't look like their son. There was no other way to say it. Drawn, white skin framed a loosely hanging open mouth, as if he were silently screaming without even realising it. His eyes were lifeless, staring unseeingly at the wall he was standing in front of, and upon closer inspection were found to be almost uncoloured; not sapphire, not amber, but a dull grey, as if- judging by the tear tracks staining his cheeks- he'd cried out any colour they may have had. His whole tall, broad frame seemed to have shrunk also, and Molly felt, for the first time in a long time, as if he was once more the young boy who used to cry at his nightmares.

"Bill?" She asked tentatively, but he didn't move. "Bill, come and sit down." He still didn't even react, so she took one of his hands and led his limp form over to a nearby chair, treating him as if he was even younger than Hugo. "We'll find out what happened, Bill. We'll find out how this happened to Ron."  
His face finally raised to look at her and, in an emotionless voice, he said, "I don't give a shit about Ron."  
Molly flinched and, on his other side, Arthur quietly said, "You don't mean that, son."  
He slowly turned his head to face him instead. "Don't I? Hermione is..." His voice was still deadened, and for a while he merely stared at his father, until a small hand rested on his knee and he flicked his eyes to Hugo.  
He was stood in front of Bill, crying openly and gnawing at his lower lip in a way that was so like Hermione he would certainly start weeping again, if he had any tears left. "I'm sorry." The boy whispered. "I'm so-sorry I d-didn't stop him sooner." Bill closed his eyes as a wave of guilt made him dizzy, before pulling the twelve year old closer and hugging him tightly. _So am I_.

...

When the four Weasley men had stepped out of the floo into the devastation in front of them, they had, for a moment, had difficulty in located the injured woman. That was, until something deep within him had told him to take a closer look at the bloody mess near the table. Percy had already wandered over to his brother's unmoving form, and was shaking his head in confirmation of his death when Bill had moaned, a primitive sound that was ripped from the rawest part of his being.

Because Merlin, how could that actually be her? How could anyone _survive_ this? How could anyone _do_ this? He tentatively waved his wand and, somehow, some way, it showed that she was still clinging to life, albeit barely. He spared half a seconds thought for the child that had undoubtedly died without even being given a chance to live, before his father and brothers were there and beginning to form plans to contact the Ministry and St. Mungos. A warm hand settled on his shoulder and it was only then that he realised that he had, at some point, fallen to his knees next to Hermione's broken form and was weeping uncontrollably, her blood seeping into his jeans. His hands were hovering above her, wanting more than anything to touch her, to make sure she was actually there, actually _alive_ , but didn't dare to, sure that she would disappear or die the moment he tried. Besides, even if he had dared, there seemed to be no place he could see that she wasn't hurt.

He merely knelt there for a while, Charlie's hand heavy on his shoulder, whilst the life seemed to seep out of him as if he was trying to give his life to her, to try to help her hold on. Arthur and Percy had already left to organise the removal of the bodies, the Healers were surely on their way. His mind wasn't thinking of this though; it was too busy looking at the love of his life and wondering how on Earth this had happened, how he could've failed her to this tragic point.

…

The next thing he knew he was sat in a St. Mungo's hospital chair, comforting the boy that could have, _should_ have been his, Hermione's broken image still burning behind his lids. He blanked out again for a short time, stroking Hugo's- who had taken Arthur's vacated spot next to him and was resting his head against Bill's shoulder- hair absently. He started when he heard Hermione's name, and followed the Healer silently when they informed him that Mrs Weasley-Granger had, a few weeks ago, changed her medical documents to name him as her next of kin, and so all information on her condition had to go to him. The Healer, a young-ish woman by wizarding standards, perhaps forty or so, had a grim look on her face as she informed Bill that they had had to put her into a magically induced coma to allow for her injuries to heal, but that there was no guarantee that their efforts would work. She could still die the moment she was woken.

He returned to the waiting room and, in a deadened voice, relayed the message, almost word for word, to his father, who then went on to tell the others. Whilst he had been with the concerned Healer, who kept on asking if he wanted her to floo his wife and only receiving numb shakes of the head in return, Percy had returned with George, Angelina and little Fred. His younger brothers immediately ran to embrace him when he heard the news about Hermione, and for a moment they merely stood there, Bill not even recognising that he was being hugged. Seeing this, Percy and George gave up and instead led him over to sit down once more.

The next time he came back to a conscious state, as if water had been thrown over him whilst in the deepest sleep, was when Charlie returned, James, Albus, Lily and Rose in tow. _Rose_... He shook himself and stood up to comfort her, but the young woman had a steely look in her eye, the same that Hermione sometimes got when she was 'not happy' with something. Had? Should he already start speaking about her in the past tense? Was she already beyond hope?

Rose stopped a few feet in front of him, looking confused, hurt and completely terrified. "Did you know?" She asked Bill quietly, unintentionally pulling all attention in the room towards her. Hugo immediately moved to hug her but, although she wrapped one arm around his shoulders protectively, her piercing gaze didn't leave Bill's. "Did you know?" She repeated, her voice barely more than a whisper.  
"Know what, Rosie?" He asked tentatively. Know about the drink? Know about the abuse? Know about what?  
She swallowed thickly but stiffened her shoulders and didn't lower her gaze, and her voice only slightly cracked when she replied, "Did you know that I'm not Ron's daughter by blood? Did you know that I'm yours?"

Silence roared into the room, as if no one was even breathing, no one's hearts were quietly beating. Even the howling wind outside seemed to have stopped. For a moment, father and daughter merely stared at one another, their eyes almost identical, even down to the tears that were quickly forming in both. "Rose-" He choked out after a lifetime of stillness.  
"You knew, didn't you?" She whispered in a mixture of disbelief and anger.  
"Rose, please." He said, attempting to give his calming voice and looking at her with pleading eyes, ignoring the general sounds of shock from those who didn't already know about what had happened all those years ago. "Please," He continued desperately, "I can explain."  
She shook her head incredulously. "How?! All these years, and I thought-"  
He fell forward off his chair until he was kneeling before her. " _Please_ Rose, I'll tell you everything, _everything_ , just _please_ give me a chance to. I'm begging you, _please_."

Rose seemed uncertain, her usually controlled Uncle, father, or whatever, suddenly breaking down and weeping on the floor before her was shocking. But then she thought about her mother, who although she'd been lying to her for, well, her whole life, was still her mum. Then there was her dad, Uncle, or whatever, who was dead... But hadn't she been sure that there was something wrong with her parents? Or, parent and Uncle? She wanted to scream, none of this made _any sense_! Here, though, was the man that she had trusted and loved for all of her life, the man who, when things were bad, she had seen as a surrogate father, the man who had given her the wolf teddy that she still kept with her at all times. The man who wanted to explain everything. The man who was _begging_ to explain everything. The man that she, despite everything, still trusted.

She gave a sharp nod, and he began to open his mouth, but Charlie once more rested a hand on his shoulder and murmured, "Here isn't the place to do this."  
Bill gathered his thoughts enough to realise that his brother was absolutely right, and looked imploringly at Rose once more. "Please, come back to-"  
"Dad!" A voice rang out, and he suddenly found himself engulfed in blonde hair.  
Teddy Lupin hung back a little, but still looked concerned. "How is she?" He asked tentatively, but Bill was too busy looking at the confusion and pain in Rose's eyes, as Victoire held tight to him, to even consider answering.  
"She's not too good, but we're all going back to the Burrow now." Charlie said gently.  
Victoire pulled back. "Okay, we'll stay here and wait for some news."  
Finally taking his eyes from his daughter by blood to the daughter he'd raised, he shook his head. "No, Vicky. You need to come with us, there's a story I need to tell all of you." Both frowned, and he was overwhelmed with concerned love. "Please, just trust me. I swear, I'll tell you everything that's happened."

"Dad? What's going on?" Victoire asked in concern.  
"Please." He repeated, looking between Rose and Victoire. The two women looked at one another, the blonde surprised by the fierce yet uncertain nod the younger red-head gave, before shrugging slightly and agreeing to return to the Burrow.  
"What story are you going to tell?" Hugo asked, closely followed by Louis and Dominique, who had arrived with Teddy and Victoire.  
"Yes, William, what is going on here?" Molly asked, in a cool voice.  
"I'll explain everything at the Burrow." He mumbled.

Here he stood, at this moment in time, looking at the fireplace that almost all of the others had disappeared through, and he was uncertain. Because here he stood; his brother dead, the love of his life possibly dying down the hallway, and the children's- whether they be his by blood, his by raising, or those that should have been his- lives about to be torn apart. He loved them. He loved them all. Vicky, Dom, Louis, Rose and Hugo. And he was now going to ruin everything they thought was certain. Everything they thought was _real_.

"They're already confused, all you can give them now is answers." Came a voice from behind him, and he turned slowly, not realising that he had found the moisture to cry once more until he found he could barely see the other man's face.  
"Everything's gone s-so wrong. I ca-can't believe I let things get so b-bad." He gasped out.  
"You need to get a hold of yourself." Bill looked up in bemusement at his father's unusually stern voice. "You've committed to telling them everything," Arthur continued, more gently, "and I honestly think it was the right thing to do. However, you have to follow through now."  
"What happened dad? What happened?" He whispered, uncertain and broken.  
His dad, however, simply held him tight, before murmuring, "You did what you thought was best for your children, and the woman you loved. If you had chosen a different path, then you would've had a different situation to face, but at the end of the day, you knew from the start that having a relationship with Hermione would be difficult. Now, you have to face up to the consequences of that."

Bill hung his head. "You're angry with me."  
Arthur gave a grim smile. "I'm not. Unfortunately, I think that whatever happened in that room today would have happened anyway, except maybe we'd be burying two bodies. Ron has- _had_ \- been struggling since the end of the war, and Hermione helped him for a while. But even if the two of you had admitted to everything when it began... He already had some problems. There's no way of predicting what _could_ have happened, but I'm not sure that Ron would've held it together for as long as he did. Who knows who it would've been? The one that he abused, I mean. I wish we could've helped him, but... We were all too stupid I guess. Too raw after Harry and Ginny to take action. Too desperate to have normality to actually see what was going on. But at least Hermione knew she had you."

"But Rose, Victoire, _all_ of them-"  
"Will not understand at first." Arthur interrupted gently. "But someday, they might. You can't ask more from them than that." Bill flinched slightly, and his dad sighed. "I don't mean to sound cruel, but this whole situation is... Well, it's not right, you know that. You have to face it though." Bill nodded, willing himself to appear normal and calm, and grabbed a handful of floo powder. "Hey?" Arthur called as he stepped into the fireplace. "I'm going to have to deal with your mother..." Arthur gave a comically terrified look and, though he hadn't expected it, Bill felt a laugh bubble up within him, and a small smile graced his face. Arthur smiled slightly. "See you in a minute. And Bill? I'm proud of you son."  
He nodded, channelling his inner Gryffindor and stepping into the embers. "I love you dad."  
"Love you too."

...

He told them everything. From the moment that Molly (who was crying) had yelled at him about Victoire (who was stoic), to Hermione suddenly arriving, to their first kiss and first date. Their dance at the Potter wedding (all three children looked confused). Their trip to the dragon reserve (Charlie had his hand on his shoulder in comfort). Fleur's sudden reappearance and Bill's choice (Victoire began sobbing, and Teddy seemed furious). His actions at George and Angie's engagement dinner (the pair nodded in mutual understanding). And then finally, the night when they had met in the forest once more, and she had chosen to lie, to save everyone else from harm.

Following this, he quietly told the quietly crying congregation of his withstanding love, the arguments between himself and Fleur, and between Hermione and Ron, and the devastating realisation that his wife had lied about the birth-father of all his children. He eventually stood alone, speaking to the wall as he spoke about the most recent months, toning down the extremities of Ron's drinking and abuse to save Hugo and Rose more grief, and when he had finally finished (omitting his dalliance with Hermione a few weeks prior), was surprised to hear Rose speaking when he had finished.

She filled them all in on the conversation she had overheard and the violent way Ron had seemed to react, making Hugo cry even harder as he told them that he had been the one to give his father the address to the cottage, inadvertently sending him to the pensieve that led to his eventual death. When they had eventually pieced together the majority of the story, with small inputs from Charlie, Percy, and Fleur's three children (who spoke sadly of their mothers 'special' friends), all were emotional wrecks. Molly was openly weeping and looking with horror at her husband as if to demand to know why he didn't seem surprised, whilst he was simply nodding in silent support of his eldest. Charlie was stood in silence next to his brother, with Percy on his other side, holding Audrey's hand as she bit at her nails in distress. George had his arms wrapped around Angelina, crying silently, and Fred Jr., mercifully asleep, watched over by the late Fred's portrait, who looked to be suffering equally from the tragic tale being told and the fact that he couldn't hug his twin in comfort.

The children, however, were suffering more than any of the others. Stood, or sat, in a small group on the opposite side of the room to the parents, as the unbelievably devastating tale had continued they had clustered together tighter and tighter, until they were a jumbled mess of limbs and multi-coloured hair. Teddy and Victoire stood at the centre of the group, clasping hands as if they were each others lifeline, Louis' arms wrapped around his older sister's hip and Dominique holding her other hand. Lily and Albus, who had originally tried to comfort Hugo and Rose only to be rejected, were each leant against one of James' legs as he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Teddy, clearly trying to remain strong for the others, though the shaking in his hands betrayed his shock and dismay.

The two Weasley-Granger children had stepped aside from the others, Rose standing firm through her tears and Hugo trembling violently and clinging to her like she was a life-raft, unable to look anywhere but the floor at his feet. After a few moments silence, whilst Rose looked almost challengingly at Bill's back, as if daring him to turn around and face her, she spoke, her voice quietly quivering but as fierce as ever. "Come on Hugo, we're going." Various calls of 'Rose' and 'Rosie!' echoed throughout the room as the family protested her biting words, but it was only when Bill turned to join the chorus that she silenced them, snapping, "No! We're going home!"  
"Rose, dear, I don't think you should go home just yet. Stay here with us for a few days, until-" Molly began softly as Bill's eyes filled with tears he thought he'd already dried up.  
"No!" She cried again, not taking the eyes that were identical to her father's from his. "We're going home, where we belong! With our mum and dad!"  
"Rose, I... I don't want to go back there." Hugo whispered quietly, almost pleading with his sister. But she could only see Bill, who had visibly flinched at her harshly spoken words yet now gazed levelly at her, looking beyond misery. "Rose, please, can't we stay?" Hugo asked quietly.

She finally looked at her younger brother and faltered slightly, before nodding sharply. "You're right. You should stay." He sagged with relief before collapsing on the floor and hugging Lily tightly, as Albus patted the area next to him in a silent invitation for Rose to join him. Her shoulders were still tense however, and after mouthing 'I'm sorry' to Hugo, she turned to the others and said, "I need to get out of here." Followed by the cries of 'stop' and 'no', she stormed from the room and out of the front door.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N** So this chapter is a little jumpy; that's deliberate. We're just going to have a wee little insight into what our two favourite daughters are up to now everything's blown up... Oh, apologies for my awful accents and translations, it's been quite a few years since I did French at school!

Bookworm; well after this one, there's only two chapters left until you'll find out everyone's fate! Hopefully you'll like it... Even though you may cry, hehe.  
Crossy; It is quite a nice image... Shame I kinda killed it straight away haha. And as for Rose, she was just in shock, I think. She's had time to think and prioritise in this chapter, so...

 **Disclaimer;** Still, nothing noticeable is mine.

As always... Enjoy!

 **Chapter 24**

It was three long hours until they found Rose, and three long days until Hermione was woken up.

In Rose's case, after just five minutes had passed since the emotionally volatile girl had run from the room, the Weasley clan had sprung into action; Bill, Charlie, Percy and Audrey checking the area around the Burrow, George, Angelina (and Fred's portrait) trying to calm Fred Jr., who had decided to start wailing the moment his cousin had left, and Arthur trying to console and placate his wife in equal amounts, as Molly switched every few seconds between fury at not being told and despair at what she now knew.

Victoire had disappeared promptly after Rose, and though the other Weasley's weren't to know, had gone to the hill-top where Teddy had first kissed her. He found her there, sat on the grass, as the others were organising their search party, rocking and reassuring the baby, and ducking thrown objects whilst trying to hug Molly. He dropped down behind her, and pulled her close to his body, wrapping his arms around her torso tightly as she tilted her head back against his shoulder.

"I won't ask you if you're okay," Teddy murmured quietly, "but is there anything I can do?"  
Victoire gave a choking hiccup. "I just can't... I mean she... And my dad..." She groaned, though it swiftly became a sob. "He's not even my dad!" She gasped out through her tears as she turned in his lap to fall against him.  
He cradled her against his chest and stroked her blond hair lovingly as his shirt quickly became soaked. After fifteen minutes, she quietened enough to sit up again, and wiped away some stray tears as she gazed at him embarrassedly. "Sorry," she murmured, "I know this must be quite weird for you too. How are you doing?"  
Teddy smiled grimly. "Vick, love, this is weird for all of us, and if you want me to be honest? I'm not okay." She looked guiltily at her lap, but he merely tilted her chin up with one finger, eyes full of adoration. "I'm not okay," he continued quietly, "because I don't know how to help you."

This made her weep again, and he rocked her gently as he pushed down the anger he felt towards, well, pretty much everyone- especially Fleur and the late Ron- in order to support his girlfriend, or, as he'd planned prior to today, fiancé. He absently fingered the box in his pocket and sighed; there would be plenty of times to propose to her, now Victoire just needed his support.

"I'm sorry this happened today." She sniffed after another ten-odd minutes, to which he merely shushed her and kissed her tears away gently. She shook her head miserably. "No, we were meant to enjoy today; five years together should be celebrated, not spent with us finding out... With me finding out..." She hiccuped. "Our anniversary shouldn't have been spent like this."  
Teddy Lupin smiled with nothing but love. "Victoire Weasley, I love you, and I can honestly say that supporting you is the best way I could have spent today. I'll give you romance and flowers and ridiculously cheesy dates," he grinned as she chuckled softly, then took her hands in his, "but what I want more than anything is to be able to be here in the bad times, and to try to help you through them."

She gave him a teary smile and kissed him softly. "I love you so much Edward Remus Lupin." She hugged him tightly once more and he murmured his love back, before they pulled back and she frowned. "But there's something I need to do alone." He tilted his head inquisitively, and she sighed. "I need to see my mother. I need to ask her what... Well, I need to ask her some things. I know what she's done is horrible, but she's still my mum and I-"  
She was cut off by Teddy clasping her to him again. "I understand." He murmured in her ear, pulling back and smiling slightly as she fingered his hair, which had at some point- and without his realisation- turned ebony. "But are you sure you don't want someone there with you? I mean, it doesn't have to be me, but I just don't want you to feel like you're on your own with this."  
She nodded grimly. "This is between us, and we have to sort it out between just us. I need to find my courage, and my mother and I need a serious talk."  
He frowned but kissed her cheek anyway. "You know I'd be there with you if you wanted."  
"I know."  
"And I will be there with you, in a way. I'll be thinking of you every second, and my love will be with you all the time."

She nodded, before choking out, "I know, and that's the only thing that gives me the courage to be able to do this." Running her fingers through his hair once again, she sighed. "I'd better get going; I have no idea where she is, so I'll have to find her I guess."  
He stood and held his hand out to help her up, before kissing her and stepping back. "Stay safe, love."  
She smiled. "I will." Then she disapparated and he returned to the Burrow and the children waiting for his return, the ring and his concern for Victoire a heavy weight on his heart.

…

Thirty minutes after Rose had left, Teddy arrived back at the Burrow to find it unnervingly raucous; between the crying Fred Jr. and screams of fury and despair from Molly, it took him a few moments to hear what Dom, Louis, James, Albus, Lily and Hugo were saying. Once he understood what they were asking, he answered their questions quickly, before asking if they had found Rose, and then holding Hugo as he wept.

Because Rose was nowhere to be found; Bill had taken to the nearby orchard, Charlie had gone into the nearest town, Percy was checking everyone's houses, and Audrey was looking in the other obvious places; Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, amongst others. None of them had had any luck, however, and all were growing increasingly concerned, though still managed to conjure patronuses to communicate. It had been the first time in over a decade that they had needed to use them, and the first few times he cast it Bill's had spluttered and failed. That was until he managed to force the image of his love lying, bloody and near death, from his mind, and dispel the shame he felt as his daughter walked away from him. When his patronus did arrive, he was glad that his family knew everything, for surely they would have questioned the fact that it was now a kneazle.

The kneazle didn't take any good news for what seemed like a lifetime, nor did he receive any from the others, and the various animals became steadily paler. However, three hours later, almost to the minute, Rose was found, by none other than the father she had always called Uncle. Bill had stopped calling for her after his voice had become hoarse enough to render it useless, and had reverted to straining his senses to see, hear or even _smell_ the youngster, finally succeeding in his search.

When he saw Rose, curled tightly into the branches of a tree, he sighed heavily, in a mixture of relief and sadness. Quickly sending off his patronus to reassure the others that she was okay, he gazed up at his daughter. Even in the moonlight her hair was a deep scarlet, and in his mind's eye he could imagine her eyes, so similar to her mother's, and he nearly wept from the fact that the last time he saw Rosie's eyes they were tearful and angry.

"Are you just going to stand there, or did you have something to say?" Came her cool voice from above.  
"Rose…" Bill sighed heavily. "Please, just-"  
"No!" The teenager yelled. "You've lied to me, both of you! It's… It's just…." She groaned in frustration before, using the inherent Weasley Quidditch skills she had inherited from him, she dropped from the tree and landed spryly. "Why?"  
"We thought it was best." Bill whispered.  
"For me? Or for Victoire?"  
Bill flinched in shock and hurt at her brutal question. "For- for everyone!"

Shaking her head in disbelief, Rose scoffed. "Whoever my father, or dad, is; screw them." Scowling at Bill, she began to walk towards the Burrow, only to pause and glance back with fire in her eyes, and whisper with a deadly iciness; "If my mum dies because of this, I will hate you. Forever."  
He stepped back as dread filled his heart, and the image of her back, quickly moving back towards the Burrow, became unable for him to bear as he closed his eyes in pain. "Rose…" He breathed, more sorrow in his voice than had been there in… Well, in years. His whole body shaking violently, he whispered to no-one, "I'll hate myself too," before following her back to the family home, "forever." 

...

Rose had spent a long time in that tree, her mind unable to settle on one feeling or fact, emotions spiralling out of control. She was angry, of course, _furious_ in fact, at her mum and- Father? Uncle?- whoever the hell Bill was to her, for the lifetime of lies and deceit. But the second she thought about her mother, an incredible wave of terror and horror overcame her; she didn't want to be an orphan. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to lose her mummy. She felt simultaneously younger and older than she ever had before, and, despite what had happened tonight, she had the desperate and childish need to cuddle the two wolf teddies Bill had given her.

This despairing feeling quickly morphed into an unbelievable guilt, more than she could even imagine feeling; she had known that something was wrong with her parents, or rather, her mum and uncle, and had done nothing. And Hugo… Poor Hugo, who had just had to experience _killing_ his father, who was drowning in his fear and sorrow, who she had abandoned… This sent her emotions back to anger at the Weasley men, who should have stopped the abuse before Hugo had to deal with it in such a damaging way. Damn them all. Damn them all to _hell_. And damn herself to hell too, for doing nothing. For running away to Hogwarts and burying her head in the sand. For running away from Hugo and her mother now. It was then that Bill had arrived, and fury had dominated everything else, and she had decided to take action and return to the only family she truly had left; she was going to grab her brother from the Burrow, and return with him to their mother at St. Mungo's. As far as she was concerned, she was a Weasley no longer. 

...

As the Weasley brothers and partners breathed a sigh of relief at the kneazle patronus and prepared to apparate back to the Burrow to comfort their nieces and nephews, Victoire was sporadically travelling across France. She knocked on the doors of many of her mother's 'friends', who all regarded her in the same way; undoubtedly muscled bodies semi-hiding behind ornate manor-house doors, chiselled and handsome features curled into a mixture of confusion and intrigue, and exclusively blue eyes filled with arousal for her. And all repeating variations of the same answer to her question. "Non, I 'ave not seen Fleur een a long time. 'Ave you asked Francis?" Or, Phillipe, or Henri, or Sebastion. Victoire followed this trail of her mother's lovers for a few hours, becoming increasingly furious that her father, or at least the man who had raised her, was not mentioned once. Did these bastards not know that the woman they had slept with was married? Or did they simply not care?

Finally, she returned to her first point of call, and though the occupants had unfortunately been absent when she had come here nearly four hours ago, there was a light on in the Louhans house owned by Christophe and Apolline Delacour. When she knocked, it was her grand-mère who answered, with an excited cry of delight. "Victoire! Chéri! It eez tres bien to zee you!"  
Hugging her tightly, Victoire felt the first true smile of hours pull at her lips. "Bonsoir." She murmured. "I'm sorry it's so late."  
"Not at all! Seeing you eez always magnifique! And it 'az been too long!" Apolline pulled back and finally had a good look at her granddaughter, frowning deeply. "But mon chéri, what 'az 'appened?"  
Victoire, who had always adored her grandparents, felt her eyes well up in sadness as she thought of what she now had to tell them. "It's about my mum. Is she here?"  
"Non, pour quoi?"

She sighed heavily. "I need to tell you and grand-père a few things."  
Apolline's concerned expression became even more prominent. "Per'aps you should come inside, mon amour."  
"Merci," Victoire said quietly as she stepped through the door, only to grab what felt like one of the only family members she had left in a tight hug. "Je suis désolée, grand-mère."  
"Christophe!" The woman yelled loudly and in alarm.  
"Oui?" Replied his distant voice.  
Looking at Victoire, who was now openly sobbing against her chest, she shook her head in worry and confusion, before calling, "Come 'ere, s'il vous plaît. Maintenant!" 

...

Rose stormed through the door to the Burrow with a ferocity that would have, under different circumstances, made her mother proud. As it was, everyone simply looked in alarm when she burst into the living room, where the majority of the Weasleys had returned and were sat or stood awkwardly in the room, the Potter teens still stood apart. And within their midst…

She opened her arms as Hugo ran towards her, bracing herself as his forceful hug nearly bowled them both over. "I'm so sorry." She whispered against his thick hair. "I'm so, _so_ , sorry."  
Hugo looked up at her with tear filled eyes, guilt, sorrow and fear swimming in them. "Rose…" He began, as he gnawed his lip uncertainly, before swallowing and finding his Gryffindor courage. "I know that things are… Well, you know… But…"  
He faltered and she forced herself to smile at him. "Whatever you need to ask me, you can ask."  
"Will you still be my sister?" He whispered uncertainly, looking much more like the five year old she used to comfort after nightmares than the teen he truly was.

And just like that, though she didn't think her heart could break any more than it already had, it shattered all over again. As the pair fell to their knees, hugging one another tight enough to almost risk breaking bones, she vaguely registered that Molly had given a wail of grief, many of the others had exhaled heavily in sorrow, and Bill, who had clearly returned, had had to stifle a moan of pain. But she didn't care, not one damn bit. All she cared about was the young man shaking in her arms. Though he had been so brave, so strong, she had to remind herself that Hugo was still a child, barely out of the years of boyhood, only just a teenager. A fierce, intense love overwhelmed her, more powerful than anything she had felt before, as she clutched him tighter and stroked his hair soothingly, like their mother had used to do.

"Of course." She whispered, pulling back slightly and realising that she, like him, had tears streaming from her eyes. Running her thumb against his cheek in a motherly way, she tried her hardest to look reassuring, and kissed his forehead affectionately. "You'll always be my brother, no matter what happens. Never doubt that, okay?" Her voice was soft, her eyes pleading with his to believe her, and to her relief he nodded slightly in agreement.

"What's going to happen, Rosie?" He whispered back.  
"I'm not sure." She replied with bitter honesty, uncaring about the others in the room who began to answer. There was nothing else that mattered right now; there was only her and her brother. "But whatever does happen, we're going to face it together, okay? The pair of us, Rose and Hugo, always together, yeah?"  
A small smile danced on his mouth, as his shoulders sagged in relief. "Always." He confirmed quietly. "But what do we do now?"  
Standing, and squaring her shoulders, her voice strengthened. "We try to be as brave as possible, and we go and be with mum."  
Hugo nodded, before sniffling miserably. "I'm so sorry, Rose. So sorry…"  
"Nothing's your fault, Hugo. _Nothing_." She assured him sternly, before softening once more. "I love you, brother."  
"Love you too, sis."

"Now, we're going to be brave, and strong, and go to St. Mungo's, alright?"  
"Okay, let's-"  
"We'll take you over there now," Molly interjected swiftly, moving towards the pair, "you two shouldn't be-"  
"No." Rose interrupted sharply. "We can go alone."  
"But-"  
"We. Are. Going. Alone." The young woman didn't care about the tears that etched grief-ridden paths into Molly's face, she didn't care about how harsh she sounded; all she cared about was the confused boy before her. "If you want to do something useful, you can contact our Nain and Taid. They deserve to know that their daughter-" The cruel words, _might die any second_ , faltered in her throat as Hugo gazed, wide-eyed and with despair, at her. "They deserve to know what's happened." She finished lamely, before glancing at Molly with steely eyes. "Other than that, we can take care of ourselves."

Taking Hugo's hand and leading him to the fireplace, she embraced him tightly once more, and murmured, "Go ahead, I'll be right behind you. There's just something else I have to quickly do."  
He nodded mutely and, throwing some floo powder into the embers, called, "St. Mungo's!"  
When the green flash had vanished, the young woman turned slowly to face the red-headed clan, all staring at her with intense concern, and she trained her eyes on them one at a time, except for Bill, who she stoically avoided. "You knew, didn't you?" She asked her uncles and grandfather icily. "None of you were surprised, not a single one of you."  
Angelina glanced at George with confusion, whilst Audrey frowned at Percy and Molly sighed sadly. Charlie merely stood shoulder to shoulder with his eldest brother silently, as unwilling as the others to confirm their niece's suspicions. "It happened years ago, we didn't think-" Percy began tentatively, only to be halted by her violent scoff.  
"I'm not talking about _him_." She spat cruelly, indicating toward Bill. "I'm talking about the fact that my mother was being _beaten_!" They all flinched, and though the two youngest began to defend themselves, and Arthur moved as if to comfort her, she stepped into the fire and prepared to follow her brother, pausing only to hiss, "Do you know something? I can't _wait_ to be of age; the first thing I'm going to do is change my name to just Granger. I don't want to be a part of this _fucking_ family any more, because if she dies, her blood will be on the _Weasley_ family's hands. St Mungo's!" 

...

"Mon Dieu…" Christophe Delacour breathed in shock. "C'est incroyable."  
"Ma pauvre petite fille." Apolline murmured softly as she stroked Victoire's hair soothingly. "You 'ave been tres courageux, mon amour."  
"I'm so sorry," The woman choked, guilt permeating her at the grief in her grandparents eyes, "I can't imagine finding out that your daughter-"  
"Victoire," Her grand-père interrupted quickly, also moving to comfort her, "there eez nothing for you to be sorry for. We are simply sorry that we deed not know."  
"Nobody did." She replied sadly. "Well, apart from my parents and Hermoine." More guilt laced her voice as she sighed. "Poor Hermoine."  
"She eez a sweet woman." Apolline muttered sadly. "I 'ope she weel be okay…"  
"Oui," Christophe added, "aussi Rosie et Hugo. Per'aps we she go to le Burrow? Zee if we can be of 'elp?"

His wife began nodding, but Victoire interrupted regretfully. "No, I don't think seeing any of the Delacours will help right now."  
"Mais, ma cher, they weel not think we knew about ta mère, surely?"  
"I don't think so, no," She reassured, before frowning, "but the Weasley's are imploding right now, and any reminder of my mother will be like firing an Unforgivable into the mix."  
"Ah, Fleur…" The man breathed. "'Ow could she do thees?"  
"I do not know, but we weel find out." Apolline replied quietly, with a dark promise in her voice, before she softened once more and her harpy-esque features, which had briefly surfaced at her granddaughters despair, gave way to sweet beauty. "But first, you must rest."

Victoire shook her head quickly, though even as she did so weariness nearly overwhelmed her. "I have to find my mother."  
"Non, chéri." The older woman pulled her close once more and held her tightly. "Christophe, envoyer un hibou à Louis et Dominique, sil vous plait?"  
"Oui femme, I weel be back dans un moment."  
"No, I don't want to worry them!" Victoire protested, though the thought of seeing her siblings made her voice weak.  
Shooing her husband out of the room, Apolline smiled sweetly at her. "Non, sweet'eart, you need to be avec ta famille tonight. Today 'as been atroce, and you need to 'ave some rest. We weel all look for 'er tomorrow, d'accord?"  
"Bien, grand-mère. Merci."  
"J'adore, ma petite fille."  
"J'adore et tu." 

...

As Victoire was reunited with her brother and sister, and their grandparents arranged for one of the already massive beds in one of the many spare rooms to be expanded, so the three could sleep together that night, Rose and Hugo held on to one another as they sat in the harsh plastic seats of the wizarding hospital. They had received many strange looks from other visitors and Healers, but neither cared; their sole concern was hearing news, _any_ news, about their mum. When they had arrived, the receptionist had been infuriatingly vague, and had dismissed them with a swift, "Where are your parents? You're far too young to be out on your own." The rude man had even gone as far as to threaten contacting the Ministry to pick up the youngsters before Rose had snapped.

"Do you have _any idea_ who we are?" She had pushed Hugo behind her and pressed her face close to the man's offended face, whispering furiously, "We are the children of Ron Weasley and Hermoine Granger; our father is dead, and our mother is close to dying, so why don't you _shut the hell up_ , and let us see our mum, okay?"  
Glancing at their flowing ginger hair, and the indistinguishable Granger fire that was crackling through her eyes, he had swallowed thickly and directed them to the right area. "Where are your uncles?" He had asked quietly before they left, but with a much softer and kinder voice than before. "You and your brother really shouldn't be alone."  
"We're not alone." She had replied, wrapping her arm around Hugo's shoulder. "We have each other. Thanks for your help."

It had been over an hour since then, and word had clearly spread of their arrival; every five-or-so minutes, a Healer would stop in front of them and gently ask if they were okay, if there was anything they could get for them, or if anyone was coming for them. Every time they answered negatively, until they barely registered what they were being asked. The silent, dreading trance they fell into was only broken when their hands were taken and thumbs rubbed soothingly across their skin. Raising their heads from where they had fallen together, both blinked with tear-crusted lids and smiled wearily.

"How're you guys holding up?"  
Rose shrugged as Hugo sleepily murmured, "They won't tell us anything."  
"There's nothing to tell apparently." She added quietly. "She's still… Well, nothing's changed."  
"I'm so sorry." One of the hands grasping her let go, as it's owner moved to hug her, and she accepted her best friend's affection gratefully. "Rose, we're all so sorry." Albus repeated as he rocked her gently.  
Lily, too, had moved to embrace Hugo beside her, whilst James and Teddy looked on sympathetically. "We're sorry it took so long for us to get here; the Ministry officials stopped by with some questions." The young woman apologised gently.  
Hugo shook his head. "I'm just glad you're here." Glancing nervously at Rose, who was now accepting James's hug, he gnawed at his lip. "We both are, right Rose?"

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, trying to anticipate whether she would reject the Potters and Teddy as she had done the Weasleys, or accept their love and help. "Of course we are. Thank you for coming." She finally murmured, sighing in relief as Albus held her once more; she had been so sure that she and Hugo were alone, so sure that there was no-one else. How could she have doubted their ever faithful friends and cousins, the Potters? Teddy's presence unnerved her a bit though, and she blinked uncertainly at him. "How's Victoire?"

He blanched slightly, but the tenderness didn't leave his eyes. "She owled earlier; she's with her grandparents; Louis and Dom are there too. They're going to carry on looking for…" Clearly unwilling to say Fleur's name, he coughed awkwardly. "They're going to carry on looking tomorrow."  
"I'm sorry." She muttered quietly. "I'm sure you'd rather be with her than here."  
"She'll be okay," He replied with soft regret, "and I know she wouldn't want you guys to be alone."  
"I hope she knows that I, that _we_ , had no idea." She indicated towards her brother, who was currently lost in a mixture of Potter limbs, and Teddy smiled grimly.  
"I'm sure she does; everyone knows that none of this is your fault." Rose nodded in relief, and the older man knelt before her. "And Rose, I know you don't want anything to do with the Weasleys right now; that's completely understandable. But please, don't think you're alone. I'm here for you, and I think I speak for these guys when I say they're here too."  
All three Potter children nodded emphatically, as Rose and Hugo gave weak smiles, full of gratitude. "Thank you."

"The ministry officials," Her brother began fearfully, "what did they want? Am I… Am I in trouble?"  
"Of course not," Teddy reassured, "and we asked them to leave you be for a few days."  
"Oh."  
Patting his shoulder comfortingly, James added, "It only took us so long to come because they wanted someone to be there when you looked over your house, and we offered to go. Speaking of, you guys are more than welcome to stay with us at Godric's Hollow until, you know, things get worked out."  
"Thank you, but I think we'll stay here tonight."  
"Of course."  
"By the way," Albus added with a small smile, "we actually went so we could pick up some things." He pulled out a small bag and, showed them what was inside; a few sets of clothing for them both, and on top, an object that made Rose nearly start weeping again as he passed it to her.

"Come on guys." Teddy stated, waving his wand so that the chairs opposite transfigured into a plump looking bed, and ushering them all under the covers. "Let's see if we can get some shut eye, okay?" And so the five teens curled up together, Teddy watching over them like a surrogate parent, glaring fiercely at the Healers who tried to complain at the impromptu bedding. And in the centre, one arm wrapped around her brother, her best friend holding her securely, Rose held onto the one thing from home that Albus had been sure to get for her; the wolf teddy she had given to her mother, and then she wept.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N** It's the penultimate chapter! The finale will be posted at exactly 23:59 (my time at least) as a final farewell to 2016, but I couldn't resist teasing you with one last cliffhanger! Thanks as always!

bookworm; Well that entirely depends on what flavour the cookies are... Haha! Glad you enjoyed it, even if it did make you cry! And hopefully you'll enjoy the ending in the next chapter!  
lyrass; Really sorry to hear that happened to you, but thank you so much for reviewing, and I'm glad you managed to escape that situation!  
Crossy; This story is going to miss you too! Sorry I made you cry again... There might be more coming too... Sorry in advance!  
kaycross; Ahh more tears! Have some of my imaginary tissues!  
Guest; Why thank _you_ very much!

 **Disclaimer;** Maybe 2017 will be the year I rub a genie's lamp and become JK Rowling? Until then, all things noticable are hers!

As always, hope you enjoy!

 **Chapter 25**

The days seemed endless, even after Rose and Hugo had eventually been coaxed into leaving St. Mungo's and moving in with the Potters. Rose still refused to see any of the Weasleys, and Hugo, though he sometimes found himself wanting to spend time with his father's family, followed her lead. In a way that almost directly mirrored their actions a few months earlier, the Potter children cared for their cousins in the wake of Ron's death, and the terrifying possibility that Hermoine wouldn't wake. Teddy, too, had been an invaluable support, and though Victoire had yet to return from searching for her mother in France, she had written to the group every day, with one letter including a small message for Rose's eyes alone. In it, she had penned her incredible grief, sympathy and regret that she couldn't be with them. She had emphasised her support and love for her, and her hope that, despite the actions of their parents', they could remain close. Rose had cried onto the parchment and quickly replied with the same sentiments, and hope that Fleur would be found soon.

But the days were _so long_! Professor McGonagall had been contacted shortly after the tragic events of three days ago- ' _Was it really only three days?'_ \- and had, of course, given the five school-children time off. Yet, as Rose found herself once more consumed by her thoughts, she almost wished that she had classes to distract her. She would even, _perhaps_ , welcome a visit from Rita Skeeter, who had been attempting to penetrate the wards around the Godric Hollow house ever since the media had become aware of the tragedy. Well, perhaps not, given the reputation the slimy, sneaky woman had. Still though, she longed for something, _anything,_ to break the endless, timeless silence that had enveloped them all for what already felt like a lifetime.

The only thing that seemed to have happened in the recent days, was the visit from the Ministry officials who, despite Teddy's requests, had visited them only a day after her mother was admitted, and Hugo had accidentally… Hugo had saved Hermoine. To both of the children's relief, they informed them that between the extensive spells used on the house to show what had truly happened in those fatal moments, and the testimonies given by countless people regarding the abuse and horror of their relationship, Hugo's accidental magic was judged as just that; accidental.

Though Rose had never held a single doubt that her brother would be deemed innocent, that night it became apparent that he had secretly feared prosecution. "I feel horrible," He whispered to her in the dark, "that I'm so relieved."  
"What d'ya mean?"  
"Well, mum might still… You know. And I did… I killed him…" He was close to sobbing again, and Rose held him firmly. "But I'm just s-so relieved - _sniff_ \- that I won't be sent to Azkaban."  
"Hugo, of course you wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban." She murmured quietly. "You saved mum."  
"But she might still…" He seemed unable, as she was, to speak the horrific words, to even acknowledge that they might soon be orphans. "Rose, where are we going to live? If, you know..."  
She sighed softly; though she was sure that the Potters would be happy for them to remain there, and they would be welcome at any of the Weasley's places, she was hesitant to abuse the formers generosity, and incredibly reluctant to stay with the family she had rejected. Still though, as she heard Hugo sniff tearfully, she forced herself to feign a confidence she certainly didn't feel. "When mum wakes up, she'll find us a new place to live."

He nodded against her shoulder before muttering sleepily; "Are you angry with her?"  
Frowning, she briefly considered his question. Was she angry with her mother? Well, _yes_ , obviously, but with the storm of emotions still pounding through her young heart, she wasn't sure that anger was at the forefront of her feelings. Worry, perhaps, or rather _terror_. "I suppose I just don't understand." She finally replied, deflecting his question effectively.  
"But you still love her, right?"  
Her eyes burned from the tears she could no longer shed. "Yeah, Hugo. I still love her. So much."

...

Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since the young pair had fallen into an uneasy sleep, and three days since Hermoine had been cast into the magical coma that was her best chance at life. Her broken body was still healing, as they had told all who asked after her, and waking her up was, though slightly less of a risk than initially, still alarmingly dangerous. Her side was occupied at almost every hour of the day, with friends and family who spoke to her unmoving form. And though the Healers repeatedly reminded them that she couldn't hear them, Luna, Neville, Minerva, Jo, even Blaise, and countless others including, of course, the Weasleys, Potters and her own children, continued to tell her about their days, and how much they loved and missed her. And they all begged her to heal and wake up safely.

That was, until one person visited the prone woman, and instead of sentiments of love, support and hope, began chanting the complicated spell that would wake her. Waiting with baited breath to see if she would die, if her battered body would collapse from her early rousing, the other exhaled in relief when Hermoine opened her eyes and gently coughed. By some miracle, she had survived being woken earlier than anyone would have rationally tried, and her features twisted in pain as she instinctively tried to move.

"I'm glad you're not dead." Said her companion, and she turned her face slowly, neck spasming in pain, only for adrenaline to surge through her. Her eyes, suddenly wide and fearful, darted around to find her wand, only to suddenly remember seeing it's shards falling down the stairs, and then remember herself following them… _So much pain_ … _Dying_ … Breathing in sharp, painful gasps, she met the icy blue eyes of the person looking down at her prone, frozen form. "Not dead _yet_ , anyway."

...

Victoire leant gratefully against Teddy's form, thanking Merlin that he had responded so swiftly to her patronus. They were once more upon the hill where they had first kissed, and though the mood was equally as miserable as last time, she couldn't deny the relief she felt from his presence again. He had arrived less than five minutes after her hastily sent silvery wolf and, seeing her tear-stained face, had simply opened his arms to welcome her in and comfort her. Nearly ten minutes, by her estimation, had passed since he had arrived and he still hadn't asked what was wrong, simply whispering words of love and reassurance in her ear, and being there. As she rubbed her stomach, secretly holding the baby that no-one but her knew was there, she found herself thanking Merlin that the pair of them could simply _be_. Simply find comfort in one another's arms, no words or explanations needed. Just simple, quiet love.

"I love you." She finally whispered against his chest. "I love you so much."  
He kissed the top of her head with sweet affection. "I love you too, my darling."  
She leant back slightly and gazed at him with blue eyes filled with sincerity. "I mean it though, I really do adore you. Being with you, it…" His brows pulled together in confusion as tears swelled anew and ran down her cheeks, and she shook her head. "It's the only time I ever feel truly safe, truly peaceful."  
He brushed away the moisture on her face with one hand, whilst the other fingered the ring box that he had kept by his side for the last three days. _No, it's still not the right time_ , he thought quickly, before taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently, first on the forehead, then the lips, and finally on her nose, making her giggle a little. "I adore you too, more than anything. I'd do anything for you."

She smiled softly and, when he tilted his head in a silent question as to what had happened, sighed and returned to resting against his chest, their hands entwined. "I found her." She eventually stated.  
"Your mother?" Victoire nodded. "Where was she?"  
"Calais. With Bryce." She stated bluntly. "He was short. The rest were tall."  
He sighed in sympathy and rubbed her shoulders relaxingly. "How many were there?" He didn't need to have it spelled out for him; Victoire had had to visit many of her mother's lovers.  
"Too many to count." She scoffed. "Not one of them mentioned Bill." Kissing her cheek, he scowled as she added, "I don't think they even knew Dom, Louis and I existed."

After a few moments, he softly asked, "How are they?"  
"They're… Well, obviously confused, but they seem to be handling it okay. I just reassured them that no matter what, we'd always be each other's brother and sisters. I… I didn't know what else to say. They weren't there when I found her, thank Merlin." Knowing that she would talk about Fleur when she was ready, he waited patiently, continuing to rub the tension in her muscles away. It was a few minutes before she spoke again, with dread and guilt lacing her voice. "How are Rose and Hugo?"  
Teddy frowned slightly, but when he spoke it was with heavy reassurance. "They're being brave. I think they just want to know what's happening with Hermoine, if I'm honest. Rose has been so strong for Hugo though, after what happened with Ron…" He trailed away, before clearing his throat and giving her a weak smile. "Whatever you wrote in that note, it really helped her."  
Victoire nodded slowly and, though she would never know it, echoed the thoughts that had circulated around Rose's mind as she had read said note. "I guess I just didn't want her to think anyone would blame her. I was so young, and she's still so young. Little girls, the both of us. Bill's, Hermoine's, Ron's… And Fleur's. Fleur's little girl." She sighed. "So many lies. But it's not our fault. And I don't want Rose thinking that anyone will blame her."  
Teddy gazed at her with pride. "You're being so brave, my love. I'm so proud of you."

She smiled gratefully, before sighing and closing her eyes. "She denied it at first." She whispered, and Teddy didn't need to have the power of Legillimancy to know that she was talking about her mother again. "She said it was all lies. Said that she hadn't kept me apart from my dad, or whoever Bill is. I mean… I remember being away from him when I was younger, but she always said it was because he was working. She actually lied to me, to try to turn me against him. And when I found her tonight, she tried to convince me that the Weasleys were all against her, like it was some bloody conspiracy theory." His mouth twisted in sympathy and grief as she began to shake slightly. "A-and then, when I told her that I-I'd spent the last _two f-fucking days_ s-speaking to her ex- _lovers_ , she finally admitted what a- what a- what a _whore_ she had been! An-and w-when I asked her who m-my f-father was," Victoire was sucking in her breath in short, violent bursts, "s-she tried to t-tell me it was Bill, b-but she finally ad-admitted she d-doesn't even know!"

She promptly fell back onto his chest, crying bitterly once more, and he ran his fingers through her hair as she muttered about how much she hated her mother right now, bitterly thinking that he hated her too. Fleur, or as he had secretly heard her called, Phlegm, Delacour was definitely topping his most-hated list right now. Victoire eventually calmed enough to speak again, and there was a grim determination in her eyes when she looked at him once more. "I need to go," She began quietly, "I have to see Hermoine." He frowned in confusion, but before he could speak she shook her head and continued. "I… I have to tell her how sorry I am, for all the grief I've caused her."  
"Hey, it's not your fault! You were just a child! Besides, love, she's still, you know…"  
Victoire nodded. "I know. I know both of those things. But, though she's still in the coma, she's still alive. And if she… If she dies before I can say how sorry I am, for everything that's happened, I'll never forgive myself. Maybe she'll hear me, maybe she won't, but I have to tell her. I just have to."

Sighing deeply, he rested his cheek against hers. "I can't even pretend to imagine, or empathise, with what you're going through love, but I'll support you. Whatever happens, whatever you want to do, I'll be here for you." She nodded as they stood, and he kissed her gently. Her eyes still shimmering with tears, her fair blonde hair silver in the moonlight, and her gentle features lit up with love; she had never looked as pure, as tragic and as lovely as right now. "I love you so much, my beautiful, darling, wonderful Victoire."  
She smiled slightly, radiant in the gentle light. "I love you too, Teddy Lupin."  
"Would you like me to come with you?"  
She considered her offer briefly, before shaking her head. "Thank you, but no. I think I need to do this on my own." He nodded and, with one final embrace, the pair disapparated; he to resume his pseudo-father role, and she to tell Hermoine of her deep regret. Little did they know that when they next met, the terrifying green flash of the avada kedavra would have once more been cast, and Victoire's life would have once more been shattered before her eyes.

...

"Are Rose and Hugo okay?" Hermoine asked weakly from where she lay, defenceless, in the hospital bed. When no reply came, she sighed deeply, and when she next spoke her voice was pleading, begging even, for an answer. "Please, you're a mother too, just tell me how my children are."  
The other woman snorted slightly. "Hmm. I wonder, can you still call yourself a mother now? Tell me, 'Ermione, 'ow can you be a mother when your children 'ate you?"  
"Fleur, please," Hermoine implored desperately to the French woman's back, "whatever's happened between us, just _please tell me_ , are they okay?!"  
Fleur turned slowly to face her, her face eerily bland and her eyes still icy. Her veela features usually made her beautiful, but at the moment it simply made her more terrifying than ever. Especially when she gave an unpleasant smile and coolly stated; "Your 'usband is dead." Hermoine flinched slightly, terror filling her as Fleur's smile widened. "Hugo killed 'im."  
A sob of despair escaped her, not for Ron but for her son, who was undoubtedly suffering right now, and who she couldn't help. Who probably hated her. "Fleur," She tried once more, " _please_ , I'm honestly, genuinely _begging_ you, just tell me if Rose and Hugo are alright. _Please_! If it were Victoire, Dominique or Louis, I would _tell you_!"

Her harpy features suddenly shot forth as she lunged towards Hermoine, pressing their faces close together and spitting; "Do _NOT_ speak their names!" Her suddenly elongated and sharp nose nearly touched Hermoine's mouth as her saliva spread over her chin and, to her disgust, mouth.  
But the former 'Golden Girl' couldn't even lift her arm, let alone wipe away the spit. "Fleur-"  
"Tais-toi, putain." Fleur whispered cruelly before, to her relief, stepping back once more. "You 'ave ruined everything."  
Hermoine, groaning as the adrenaline was swiftly leaving her body and the pain was increasing at an alarming rate, gritted her teeth and forced herself to speak. "You ruined everything years ago. _You_ , not me."  
"Ha!" Fleur scoffed as she paced around the room in agitation. "Of course you would blame thees on me! You- you- you 'usband stealing slut!"  
"I didn't steal Bill from you; I helped him when you were sleeping with half of the men in France!"

Fleur stormed back over and slapped her harshly. "I owed you that." She muttered. "And do not try to scream, I 'ave cast une charm de silence." Hermoine wouldn't have tried to scream even without her warning; the sudden mad fire in the older woman's eyes had muted her; Fleur look genuinely insane, and this was merely emphasised as she continued her frantic pacing around the room. "Victoire found me." She eventually stated.  
"With another of your lovers, I suppose?" Hermoine bit back, concern for her children making her voice cruel.  
Fleur looked at her with narrowed eyes, hatred emanating from her every pore. "She 'ates me. She knows everything. They all do. And she 'ates me."  
Despite the enduring hatred between the pair, Hermoine's heart ached at her confession; as she had said they were, after all, both mothers. "I'm sorry, Fleur. I honestly am. But I warned you, all those years ago, that the only person that would lose the game you were playing would be you, when Victoire found out. I'm..." Sighing, she spoke with absolute truth. "I'm not happy that I was right."

Whatever humanity seemed to have come over the French woman vanished in an instant, as she sneered at Hermoine's sympathetic face. "Rose and Hugo know too." She informed her cooly. "I theenk that they weel 'ate you too, non?" Closing her eyes in grief and exhaustion, the bed-ridden woman sighed as the blonde continued viciously. "And, poor petite Rosie 'as told the Weasleys she wants nothing to do weeth them. So your leetle girl will be all alone when she becomes un orphelin. And Hugo, of course, 'as followed 'er, so they will both be abandoned!"  
"Bill won't that happen." Hermoine said confidently, and though the other woman sneered and began to answer, she cut across, "Wait, un orphelin? An orphan? So you came here to murder me, did you?"  
She smiled serenely and sat on the edge of her bed, the picture of innocent beauty. "Ah, but Rosie 'ates Beel more than anyone, I'm sure. And of course I came 'ere to keel you. It's what you deserve; justice poétique."

"Why haven't you done it already then?"  
Fleur tilted her head, seemingly curious. "'As the golden girl decided she wants to die?"  
Hermoine shrugged in reply. "Not really, but as you haven't killed me already, well… I don't think you're going to." She wasn't sure if she was bluffing, trying to stall her or genuinely believed what she was saying, but she continued. "You're many things, Fleur, and Merlin knows we've hated each other in the past, but I don't think you're a murderer."  
The other woman laughed gleefully, and not without a hint of the insanity in her eyes. "Per'aps you did not theenk it, but I suppose you didn't think Hugo was either, non?"  
"Hugo is _not_ a murderer!"  
"Did you not 'ear me before? 'E keeled Ronald."  
Shaking her head, she frowned. "I don't believe you, and even if I did, I would only believe it was some kind of accident."  
Smile twisting, the other woman shrugged. "Well, 'e deed it trying to save you, so I guess eet was not entirely 'is fault."  
Heart dropping, she whispered, "I don't believe you."

Fleur shrugged nonchalantly. "Eet does not matter. And as for why I 'ave not 'done eet already'? Well, I wanted you to know 'ow many lives you 'ave ruined with your lies, my leetle bookworm. Now that you do…" Standing gracefully, she pulled out her wand and started aiming towards each part of Hermoine's body, madness making her body shake with excitement, and as her eyes roved over her chest, her heart, her forehead, Hermoine saw the terrifying insanity that had danced in the ebony orbs of Bellatrix Lestrange, and the curse scar on her forearm seared. Then again, her whole being seemed to be struggling; whether it was the injuries that were still healing, the conversation she had just had with none other than _Phlegm_ (she must definitely be concussed), or that fact that, for what felt like the thousandth time in her life, death was staring her in the face… Whatever it was, she felt… Carefree. Weightless. Soothed.

 _Death might not be so bad_ , she thought, leaning back and closing her eyes, _I'll be able to see Harry and Ginny again. Be able to apologise. What was it Harry said Sirius' ghost said? 'Quicker than falling asleep', that was it. Dumbledore called it 'the next great adventure'. Harry was ready to die all those years ago… Maybe now, I am too._ She reopened her eyes and looked at Fleur directly, with a small smile playing on her mouth, and considered their history together. _Such a bitch. Makes you wonder how Victoire turned out to be such a sweet girl, especially as she's not Bill's. Though I suppose she still is… Bill's little girl…_

The last three words swam around, echoing like the tolling funeral bells calling her closer to death's door, and its quiet, still embrace. _Bill's little girl… Little girl… Bill…_ There was something her addled mind was missing, some connection that was a silvery thread binding her to life, but oh so close to snapping. What was it about those words? The more she tried to concentrate the more it hurt her throbbing head, though, and the less free her body felt. Ah, it was so much easier to simply let go! To follow her friends, to snap that quickly thinning thread and fall into the dark expanse of whatever came next. Surely it would hurt less... Surely it would _have_ to.

 _Can you- Little- feel pain in -Bill- death? Can -Girl- you-_ She tried to distract herself but the ringing, which had sounded so much like the church bells rung when someone was laid to rest in the town she grew up in, were too loud. And they weren't the bells any more, the pitch and volume increasing painfully until it was a sharp screech, screaming those three damn words in her head like she had mermen, out of water and next to her, wailing some tragic lament. _BILL'S LITTLE GIRL!_

She didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to acknowledge anything, didn't want to fight any more. _The bells, think of the bells. The church, with it's -BILL'S- stained gla- LITTLE-ss windows and the gra- GIRL-veyard where we went in -BILL's- Godric's Hollow where Bagshot -LITTLE- who wrote A History Of -GIRL- Magic which which has a chapter on goblin -BILL'S- rebellions one in the eighteenth century with Urg the- LITTLE- Unclean Myrtle's bathroom always was un-GIRL-clean NO NO NO!_

Finally giving on her increasingly scattered mind distracting her so she could just die peacefully, she squinted her eyes in pain and forced herself to concentrate, ignoring the feeling of knives and hammers against the inside of her skull, forcing herself to look at that oh-so-thin strand holding her onto life. Almost as fine as the hair of a veela. _Bill's…_ As fine as Victoire's. _Little…_ Victoire; Bill's daughter. _Girl… I couldn't help Bill's little girl, I couldn't save her, all those years ago. Why couldn't I be there for Bill's little girl? Why can't I be there for her now? Why am I giving up on Bill's little girl?_ Her mind snapped, and the strand became solid, thick steel. _I have to be there for her. For Bill's little girl. For OUR little girl. Rose._

 _And Hugo._

 _I have to live._

Finally, as it seemed to have taken her a lifetime to organise her thoughts, though it had in reality been less than ten seconds, she focussed on Fleur and shook her head. "You don't want to do this." Surprising them both with the strength of her voice. "You really don't, Fleur. Think of the consequences."  
"There won't be any! Everyone weel theenk you simply died in your coma." The mad woman (because now her mind was properly clear, Hermoine could see that the French Phlegm was truly, completely insane) argued fiercely.  
"They will know the differences between my dying from a spell or dying from a coma." She responded calmly, evenly. "And they'll know it was murder. If Hugo _did_ kill Ron on purpose," Though she still didn't believe that her son had killed his father, she was ready to try anything to break through Fleur's unstable mind, "then the Ministry would have _known_ it was an accident, or Hugo would be in huge trouble, maybe even in Azkaban, and you'd have been taunting me with that."

The blonde didn't even pause to consider the validity of her words. "It weel be worth it, to _finally_ 'ave you out of ma vie!"  
"Killing me is worth your children seeing their mother hauled off to jail? Maybe never seeing you again? I'm going to be out of your life anyway, think about this logically."  
Fleur grinned sinisterly. "Oui, thees ees tres bien… I was 'oping you would beg, leetle bookworm."  
"I'm not begging, I'm trying to save you from making a terrible mistake!"  
"I do not theenk it weel be a mistake." She replied softly.  
"But-"  
"As much as I 'ave enjoyed thees chat, it ees time for me to go." Levelling her wand steadily between Hermoine's eyes, she stood at the foot of her bed, smiling faintly. "I win, 'Ermione Granger."

She was too far gone, too mad, too caught up in the web of lies and deceit and cruelty she had begun spinning all those years ago. Hermoine couldn't snap her out of it, couldn't save herself, couldn't save her children from being parent-less. Closing her eyes, she reached out for her magic; surely even the tiniest bit could help her? But no, it was all drained; saving her from the attack of days prior, trying to heal her since then, spending so long lying in disuse born from fear; it was gone. _I'll never know if it would have come back._ She thought briefly. _I'll never see Bill again._ Any semblance of the peace she had felt only a minute ago at the idea of death was gone. _I'll never tell Rose and Hugo I love them._ She wasn't scared, no, but sad. Sad and tired and hopeless and guilty and overwhelming with despairing love that she would never again be able to vocalise.

It was so quiet. So, so quiet. No bells, no screams, barely even the sound of her own breath. But then she must have passed out, because just as a cool voiced started chanting, "Avada-" she could've sworn she heard a young voice scream.

 _NOOO!_


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N** We are finally here! It's been a bloody long time, but we made it! I can't thank everyone who's been a part of this journey enough; the support I've had has not only helped me in my writing, but in my life as well. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. I really hope you won't be disappointed with this ending; I played around with a few different ideas (at one point there was going to be two separate endings), but this is the only one that felt honest to me and my writing, and the only one I was truly satisfied with. Hope I haven't let anyone down!

One last huge, massive thank you to the lovely Crossy70 and bookworm4life0812; I would never have been able to finish this story without the massive support from you guys. Between real life being unbelievably hard, the negative reviewers and my writers block, I think I may have given up all together, not just on this fanfic but on writing in general. But you guys inspired me to carry on. This one is definitely for you two, along with all of my imaginary cookies! Thank you both, so much.

And a huge thank you to my mum, who deserves such a gigantic, massive, _astronomic_ shout out. She held me when I was crying after finishing this, and then, when I gave it to her to read and she cried, I held her. I love her to bits; more than she'll ever know. This whole trilogy, _every_ original story or poem or fanfic that I've ever written, can be credited to her. Love you mum.

I hope you all have a wonderful 2017, each and every one of you deserve it, you awesome readers! And whether you've been here since the prologue of My Little Girl, tuned in halfway through Watching His Girl Grow, or are reading this months after this Girl No More is done and dusted, I hope you've enjoyed this journey as much as I have and, once again, thank you.

 **Disclaimer;** Everything recognisable is JKRs, and dya know, I hope she has a lovely New Years too!

Now, for the final time... I hope you enjoy!

 **bpfc**

 **Chapter 26**

The whole hospital shook, the whole _world_ shook when he heard a scream, followed in less than a second by an explosion that rumbled like an earthquake through the floor and walls. He had been meandering to visit as he always did this late, not wanting to risk running into anyone, least of all Rose, at the risk of upsetting her further, but unable to not be by Hermoine's side for a single day. And the explosion, the scream, had come from her room. It had been a woman's scream.

Every heightened sense sharpened, hairs on the back of his neck tingling with dread, Bill sped up and sprinted for the door, coughing slightly at the dust in the air and ignoring the cries of the Healer at the other end of the ward yelling for him to stop. "Get help!" He roared back, skidding around a corner and nearly falling on the sterilised floor, but catching himself with his quick reflexes and barely slowing. "One more corner." He muttered, and immediately felt a violent, painful choking sensation running down his throat; what in Merlin's name was with this grit floating around him and sneaking into his nose and mouth? No matter, he thought, I have to keep going.

Rounding the final corner, to the corridor which held Hermoine's room, it became apparent where the foul air was coming from, even if its cause wasn't yet clear. The doorway to where she was undoubtedly lying, was filled with a black smog, and an acrid smell was overriding the usual smell of… Well, the usual smell that hospitals had. Whipping out his wand as he approached, he waved it in a wide arc to clear the way before him and, reflexes from the War overcoming him, stood beside the door, body flushed to the wall, listening intently. Silence… Simple, all-encompassing silence. He whipped around, wand raised…

And promptly fell to his knees, a silent scream escaping him. The second that he had entered the room and felt the absence of the powerful magic that was keeping his love alive, he knew his life would never be the same. But when he saw the blond body draped over hers, unnervingly still, he knew it was over. It was Victoire.

His mind shut down, as it had when he had first found Hermoine. Except this time it was, though he hadn't thought it possible, even worse. Sweet, innocent, lovely Victoire, his first daughter, his eldest child, was lying there, and she was dead. His little girl, the one he had sacrificed so much for, the one he would sacrifice everything for all over again, the one he would sacrifice anything for to have back. Because in the last three days, in which his daughter and the son who should've been his had refused to see him, and the three children he thought were his were in France, kept from him with a respectful letter from Madame and Monsieur Delacour asking him to stay away until Fleur had been found… In those three days he had had something reaffirmed in his mind; he didn't give a damn if they were his by blood. He did not give a damn. He loved them, all of them. And now Victoire was dead.

"Bill?" The world began spinning wildly, and his eyes raised from when they had been fixating on his knees. He must be dead. His heart must have finally, _literally_ , shattered. He must have died. Because when he looked at that dreadful scene on the bed, he saw two pairs of eyes, one chocolate brown and the other vivid blue, gazing at him.  
"Hermoine? Victoire?"

...

 _Victoire strode through the identical corridors, nervously wringing her hands. What was she going to say to Hermoine's prone form? How could she possibly explain how sorry she was that she had kept her and her dad- Bill- apart? How could she…. Just, how could she?_

 _She paused and leant against the wall, sliding down, thankful that the area was abandoned so that she could gather her thoughts and her courage; as Hermoine was so famous and her condition so severe, she had been given a room in a private area, separate from the main hospital. In fact, had she not visited Teddy whilst he had be training in the various areas, she was sure she'd have quickly become lost. Besides, it was late, and there was only one Healer on duty for this ward._

 _Right now, though, she was happy for the silence; she had been so determined to see the woman she had known for so long, so desperate to speak to her in case, Merlin forbid, she died, that she hadn't even considered how to word what she needed to get off her chest. But then, she swiftly wondered if it even mattered how she worded it, it's not like she would hear. Still, though…  
_ _  
Seemingly out of no-where, a memory came to the forefront of her mind, a strange memory, from so many years ago it almost seemed like a dream. Shell Cottage, dancing on the beach with Hermoine, butterflies everywhere. Even as she considered that it might be her imagination playing tricks on her, she felt a deep certainty that it wasn't, that she had been there. Yet she had never questioned why Aunt 'Mione was there, never questioned why she had been with Bill. Never questioned why she had had to leave so quickly._

" _Guess I just apologise." Victoire murmured to herself, idly regretting that she couldn't think of anything more profound. "Come on Vicky." She said with renewed vigour. "Apologise to Hermoine, stop by Godric's Hollow to see Teddy, Hugo and Rose, and then stop by Shell Cottage." She started moving again, striding with new confidence. "You need to see Bill." She self-motivated. "You need to tell him that you love him, and that he's still your dad."_

 _Rounding the last corner, she felt a sudden and unusually strong magical presence surrounding the door, different to the usual basic security charms that had been set up when Hermoine was first admitted. Though she couldn't figure out why, chills ran up her spine and she had an incredible instinctual urge to get inside that room._ Now _. The spell was fairly complicated, but years of sneaking around Hogwarts for late-night classroom dalliances with Teddy, and having George Weasley as an uncle, had taught her how the break most spells locking doors, and she made quick work of disabling it._

 _When the door opened to reveal her mother, wand tip glowing green, the final 'a' of the first word leaving her cruelly snarling lips, the 'k' forming in the hardened shape of her mouth, she had acted on instinct; yelling, "NOOO!" Before she had even realised it, her wand was in her hand and a silent stunning spell was hurtling from her, knocking Fleur to the side and sending her deadly spell careening into the wall to the side of the bed, where Hermoine lay, looking pale and shocked. The wall promptly exploding to reveal thick layers of concrete and piping, sending dust and dirt everywhere, and mixed with the darkness of the curse, the air hung like thick, dirty fog. Looking from the huge chunks of brick and mortar, to the woman on the bed's wide-eyed face, to her mother, lying prone on the ground, unmoving, Victoire threw herself on top of Hermoine and burst into tears._

 _..._

"Are- are you really-?" Bill stuttered, caught somewhere between hope, shock and denial.  
"We're okay." Hermoine replied, as Victoire sniffed and nodded in agreement. He took them both in for a moment, marvelling in the fact that they were _alive._ Both of them! And Hermoine, though her eyes were bleary, her skin was white as a poltergeists, and she still bore the signs of the last attack, she was awake! Victoire, as she turned her tear streaked face back onto Hermoine's chest, seemed to be unharmed, other than whatever trauma she had obviously witnessed. He began to open his mouth to ask what had happened, _how_ it had happened, but Hermoine cut across him. Though she had returned to what she had been doing before Bill had made his dramatic entrance, stroking Victoire's hair soothingly and holding her gently, her voice had a slight bite to it. "Bill." She repeated, jerking her head slightly to the side.

It was only then that he took in the rest of the room, from the troll-sized hole in the wall, to the heaps of rubble, all the way to the motionless body of his ex-wife. Understanding the meaning in Hermoine's darkly uncertain eyes, he wandered over to Fleur and cast a quick charm, standing and giving her a grim smile. "She's stunned. She'll be okay."  
Victoire started sobbing even harder, and when Bill hesitantly stepped towards them, threw herself against his chest, clinging to him desperately. "I'm s-so s-s-sor-ry!" She gasped out in between heaving breaths.  
"Shh…" He murmured. "It's okay." He took Hermoine's limply lying hand and squeezed it gently, meeting her eyes with adoration. "Everything's going to be okay." Their intimate moment was quickly shattered when a group of Healers, Aurors and hospital security barged in, making Bill sigh heavily. "D'you know something," He began sarcastically, "your service is _really_ exemplary." Hermoine and Fleur looked at Bill incredulously at his bizarrely timed humour, and despite all that had happened, the pain, the tragedy, the suffering… They all, incredibly, laughed.

...

Fleur was tried for knowingly lying about the father of her children on legal documents, kidnapping her young daughter and attempted murder; she was found guilty on all counts. However, after extensive psychoanalysts and therapists spoke to and evaluated her, she was deemed clinically insane, and sentenced to spend the next twenty years in the mental-health unit of St. Mungo's. Rumour had it, however, that those that reviewed and cast judgement on her all doubted that she would be there for that time; they were fairly certain she would be there for the rest of her life. No-one, not even her parents or children bothered to sit in on her trial, though Bill had made it very clear to Vicky, Dom and Louis that no-one would think any different of them for wanting to be there. They, however, wanted nothing to do with their mother, and would not have attended even if it hadn't coincided with Ron's funeral.

The clashing of the dates had been purely accidental, and Hermoine had been more than a little shocked when Madame and Monsieur Delacour had opted to go to the funeral. When she had mentioned this to Apolline, her eyes had hardened and she had murmured, "For what she has done, she deserves whatever she gets. She ees still ma fille, and I weel always 'ave love for 'er, but I weel not forgive, or forget what she deed to Victoire, Beel et tu." Nodding in understanding and gratitude, Hermoine had directed the pair to some free seats, and with kisses on each cheek, they sat.

Ron was being buried next to his brother, sister and best friend, to the surprise of many at Hermoine, Rose and Hugo's request. The three had been avoiding most until this day as the mother tried to restore some, _any_ , of the bonds of trust between herself and her children, but now they could hide no longer. Almost everyone who knew the truth about the events leading to Ron's death had asked her why in Merlin's name she felt here was the right place. Indeed, Bill had promptly suggested tying his brother's body up in the Forbidden Forest for the acromantula to enjoy. But she had answered them all in the same way; "I want to remember him as the boy, the young man he _was_ , and I want everyone else to as well. He should be buried as Ron Weasley, not the monster he was in the last few months. Besides, the kids deserve a place to go, if they ever want to visit him. Especially Hugo."

This had led to awkward side-glances to the two youngsters, who were standing stubbornly with the Potters, a few of their parents' friends, and resolutely avoiding the Weasleys. Though Rose was making a big effort to move on from what her mother had done years ago, she was nowhere near to forgiving her uncles, Bill, whatever he was, or her grandfather, for not doing anything to try and help her mum and stop Ron. Hugo was faring slightly better, and had given his extended family a timid smile, even cooing slightly at baby Fred, but he didn't dare interact with them further; his sister needed him far more than they did. Especially when she noticed Bill hugging Vicky, Dom and Louis tightly.

The ceremony had none of the grandeur of Harry and Ginny's, a fact picked up on and confusing many ex-classmates and workmates, but as Hermoine had had difficulty in getting even Luna and Neville, who'd found out the truth from Percy, to attend, she didn't think a grand occasion would be welcome. And, in all honesty, though she tried to tell herself over and over that it was the freckled boy from her childhood she was burying, and not that monster who had raped and nearly killed her, she didn't feel comfortable sitting through hours of hearing how wonderful he was. Nor, she suspected, would Rose and Hugo. Another plus of the smaller event was that the press had not caught wind of it; Hermoine, with the help of a few friends at the Ministry, had fabricated a story about how their house had been broken into, Ron killed and her injured, the intruders escaping unharmed. How many people would believe that two-thirds of the Golden Trio would be bested by some random thieves, she wasn't sure, but it was much better than the public knowing the truth. Merlin only knew what that would do to her family, to all of their families.

As Ron's body was lowered into the ground, she felt very strange. She was upset, of course, and angry still for what he had done, nostalgic for the times they used to have, worried for her children, but most of all, most out of _anything_ ; she was relieved, and for the first time in a very long time, she breathed easily.

...

Rose had been right in telling Hugo that their mum would find them a new place to live, though it wasn't new to Hermoine. The minute she had been discharged from St. Mungo's, she had gone quickly through the remains of their old house, taking what could be salvaged, emptying cupboards, and carefully removing the pensieve that had caused so much trouble. Then, she had gone to the last place she could remember feeling truly, undoubtedly safe; her old cottage. Her children had seemed happy to be back there, though Hugo had paled and apologised again for telling his father how to get here. Hermoine had already sat him down and emphasised that he wasn't to blame for _any_ of the things that had happened between her and Ron but he was, understandably, still having difficulty coming to terms with it.

So, she had kept them home for another few weeks, letting them settle into the house and setting them up with therapists, though she was, of course, also available for them to speak to. She, too, began seeing two separate therapists; one to help her fragile mental state after all that that happened, and the other to try and coax her magic to return to her, though there was no guarantee of that ever happening. Still, eventually, they began to settle in to the new life they had, and though it would obviously never be the same as before, they reached a kind of normality, and after a month, the pair asked to return to Hogwarts. The night after they had gone back, Bill fulfilled his promise from weeks ago, and the pair went on a real, proper, second first date.

…

Nearly five years later, almost twenty years after he had made it, Bill fulfilled another promise, in the very same forest glade that he had made it in. Rose and  
Hugo had slowly but surely adapted to the idea of their mum and Bill (they'd given up trying to figure out whether to call him uncle or father) dating, and the rest of the Weasleys simply seemed happy that they were, well, happy. The Delacour children also seemed to have adapted to the idea well too, and spent much more time with the man they still called Dad than they ever had before, to his great joy. Hermoine had become more of a mother to them than Fleur had ever been, and family dinners for the seven of them became frequent events. This pleased Bill and Hermoine more than anyone knew, for they hadn't told another soul about one of the tragic consequences of Ron's attack; so brutal and scarring had it been, she could no longer bear children of her own. So having the Delacour youngsters, who had not seen their mother once since she had been committed, and being able to bring some comfort to them, soothed that ache somewhat.

Rose still frowned slightly when she heard Bill called Dad, or refer to Vicky or Dom as his daughters, but over the years had learnt to accept it, and had even forgiven the rest of her family enough to see them from time to time, though the exchanges were still a little chilly. When it mattered, however, such as today, she and Hugo put their mum's happiness first, and so watched on with wide smiles as Bill removed the ring from the chain around Hermoine's neck, and placed in on her finger. Finally, after twenty years, Bill had married the love of his life.

...

St. Mungo's once more, and more screaming, followed by more silence. But this silence was peaceful, happy, though tears ran down both women's faces. "I am so, _so_ , proud of you Rosie." Hermoine whispered softly, kissing her daughter's head with complete love.  
Rose smiled, and held out her arms. "Here." She said gently, smiling when her mother quickly conjured a chair and took the small child from her arms.  
"Oh, darling… You, little one," She kissed the babe's head softly, "are going to be _adored_."

The newest member of the Granger family, as Rose had refused to change her name when she married her childhood sweetheart, and he had instead changed his, had been born only quarter of an hour ago, and whilst the man of the hour was being congratulated by the rest of the family, the new mother had sent for Hermoine. She had hastened through, worried for the health of mother and child, only to find her daughter crying with happiness and holding the newest edition, who was happy and sleeping at present, pride beaming from her eyes.

She held the child back and stroked Rose's hair. "It'll fly by, you know," She teased, "next thing you know, _you_ 'll be a grandmother!"  
She giggled slightly, before sobering. "I get it now, Mum; why you and Bill did what you did all those years ago."  
"Sweetheart, you don't have to-"  
"No, I do." Rose breathed heavily, eyes sparkling with tears once more. "I spent all these years trying to understand, but never being able to. I guess I never stopped being angry. But now, I get it, I really do, because I would do anything, _anything_ , for this little one here."  
Hermoine hugged her tightly. "You're going to be a fantastic mum." She murmured lowly.  
She nodded. "I hope so… Excuse me," She called to the Healer nearby, "could you ask Bill Weasley to come in please?"  
"Of course, Mrs Granger."

Hermoine tilted her head slightly. "Rose?"  
She smiled slightly. "I need to do something."  
Bill came running in, panic in his eyes. "Rosie? Is everything okay?"  
"Everything's fine." Hermoine moved back and Bill's expression melted into adoration as he saw the baby in her arms. Taking a deep breath, Rose smiled up at him. "Dad," Hermoine and Bill's eyes both filled with tears at the unused and unexpected title, and as she held out the child in her arms, Rose smiled;

"I'd like you to meet my little girl."

 **The End.**


End file.
